


The Collector

by SaskiaK



Series: The Fabulous Killjoys [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 07:32:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 52
Words: 123,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10692552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaskiaK/pseuds/SaskiaK
Summary: Kobra Kid loses his patience with the overprotective Party Poison and heads off on a supply mission alone. Meanwhile, who is the mysterious person known as The Collector, what is she doing out in the Zones and what does she want with the Killjoys?





	1. Kobra Kid is NOT Useless

It was dusk and the dusty air was starting to cool at last. The acid-rain storms had raged for three days this time and the temperature outside had soared to 122 degrees; almost a record, even for Zone 6. In the last few hours the rain had begun to slow and finally stopped. The storm was over and the heat and humidity, while still high, were abating and approaching the temperatures they were used to.

Fun Ghoul was working on Doctor Death Defying’s van and in the failing light was making the last of the engine tune ups he had promised. Satisfied, Ghoul wiped his hands on a rag hanging from his belt. A job well done, even if he said so himself. He glanced over at the diner; the doctor had been in there easily half an hour tending to the man he loved, stricken by a virus. He had purposely remained outside, taking his time with the tune-up despite the darkness falling. Kobra Kid had entered the diner with him and although Ghoul was worried himself, he wanted to give Party’s brother some time with him first. The wait was killing him. Getting the last of the oil off his fingers as best he could without water, Ghoul tossed the rag into his toolbox and headed in the direction of the diner entrance.

Inside the diner, Party Poison lay on his back on the makeshift gurney with a cold damp cloth folded neatly and draped over his forehead in an attempt to address his fever. Tiredly, he drew one of his legs up, giving the impression that he was about to try to stand but he knew that right now it was beyond him. Doctor Death Defying was at his side injecting him with a colourless liquid. Normally, Party would be dreading it, trying desperately to ignore it; imagine himself somewhere else. He hated needles! This one was necessary, however. The infection had sunk deep to his chest and had laid him low. Thank goodness their last raid had secured some Genezen – a particularly strong anti-viral medication. Already exhausted from the fever, it was likely to knock him out but he knew that because it was so strong, he would almost certainly be better by the morning. His exhaustion wasn’t the only reason he was able to blank out the sensation of the syringe piercing his pale skin. No, his ears were being assaulted by his younger brother.

“Oh, come on, Party,” Kobra complained at his side. “You never let me do anything! Even Ghoul gets to run raids on his own and he’s younger than I am!”  
“He’s not my brother, though is he?” Party Poison croaked a reply.  
“No, he’s…” Kobra paused – neither Party nor Ghoul had ever officially acknowledged their relationship and Kobra didn’t want to be the one to tell him that they all knew. Hell, even Korse probably knew! “He’s not,” he finally conceded.  
“Look, Kiddo,” Party looked at him with heavy lidded eyes. “We can’t risk it, okay? I’ll be okay tomorrow. You can come with me, it’ll be fun, just you and me. Maybe next time?”  
“Yeah, next time,” Kobra grumbled rising to his feet. “Isn’t that what you always say?”

Party frowned; his brother seemed really upset but he wasn’t about to change his mind. Not only would it be his first alone, but it was dark now, adding to the danger. Didn’t he understand? Didn’t he realise that he was just looking out for him? Like any big brother would.

“Kobra, I… don’t want to… argue…,” Party’s voice was starting to falter and with it his thought processes; the Genezen now coursing through his veins was making sure of that. He frowned as he lost his train of thought.  
“This isn’t even a raid, it’s just a delivery!” Kobra lowered his head, embarrassed to be dismissed by his brother in front of Doctor Death Defying. “And it’s only to Dust Bowl! Zone three! There is no risk!” He added, trying to justify his insistence.  
“Kobra,” Party pleaded weakly as the anti-viral took full effect. “We’ll…” he sighed, losing track of his thoughts again. “Hmm, tomorrow,” he whispered before slipping into unconsciousness.

Kobra Kid nodded to himself. He was, in his brother’s eyes, just a kid and he probably always would be. He needed Party to see that he was more than just his kid brother; to show him that he was more than he was getting credit for. He desperately wanted to prove his worth; to make him see that he was more than capable of handling any situation either on his own, or with the guys. But Party Poison seemed unwilling to give him that chance – it was always ‘Next time’. Did he really think him so incompetent? So useless? Was he a burden to them? Were they carrying him just because he was Party’s brother? No! He shook his head even though the question wasn’t even asked out loud.

“I’m not useless, Party!” Kobra muttered under his breath.  
“Sorry, Kid,” the doctor spoke softly as he wheeled back away from the gurney. “He’s out for the count. Maybe later?”  
“I’m not a kid!” Kobra yelled, turning on his heels and exiting the diner almost pushing Ghoul over on his way in. “It’s all right for you!” he complained to the shorter man as they passed each other. “Apparently, you’re not useless!”

Ghoul turned astonished eyes to the angry Killjoy as he strode angrily past the van.

“Kid?” he called after him.  
“I’m not a kid! I’m older than you and I’m just as capable!” he yelled back as he continued to walk away, frustrated and angry.  
“What?” Ghoul turned back to Doctor Death Defying. “What did I do?”  
“Nothing,” the doctor responded with a reassuring smile, nodding to Party Poison. “It’s a wrong place, wrong time kind of thing.”  
“They had words?” Ghoul asked.  
“Big brother, baby brother stuff,” he replied, packing his medical equipment back into its case and closing it. “He’s trying to protect him, that’s all.”

Ghoul nodded; he didn’t know how many times he’d had the same conversation with Party. He was reluctant to put his brother in any danger whatsoever. What he wasn’t seeing was the effect it was having on him.

“I’ll speak to him about it when he wakes up – again!” Ghoul sighed. “Is he okay?”  
“He will be,” the older man confirmed. “He just needs to rest. The Genezen will do its thing by tomorrow.”  
“Thanks, Doc,” Ghoul smiled. “We need to get those supplies to Dust Bowl as soon as possible.”  
“Ghoul,” the doctor began. “Try and keep him out of the acid rain.”  
“Is that what did it?” Ghoul frowned. “But we were both caught in that during the last drac attack. Do I need to be worried too?”  
“No, he already had the infection, but inhaling the airborne acid took it down to his chest. He’s lucky we had some meds and we caught it in time.”  
“Are you saying his chest will be weak, even after he recovers?” Ghoul asked with deep concern, looking at his still deathly pale lover.  
“A few days maybe?” Death nodded, glancing at his patient. “I’ll hold some meds back from the shipment just in case.”  
“It’s all packed in the trunk of the car. I’ll go get it; is it more of the Genezen?”  
“No,” Death shook his head. “He won’t need any more of that provided we have the other. It’s called Ademen. Just one strip of pills should do.”  
“Okay,” Ghoul nodded. “Anything else while I’m out there?”  
“Got any water?” Death raised an eyebrow. “I mean bottled, not the treated rain water.”  
“For you, Doc? Anything!” Ghoul beamed. “Be right back.”

It was almost all good news; Party would be recovering by the morning with just a few tablets needed to get him back to full health. Death’s van was ready to roll and the supplies were going to be delivered tomorrow. The only problem was Kobra and Party’s argument. He sighed heavily; what on earth was he going to say to Party that would actually make him listen?

Ghoul broke into a wide smile at the sight of a cheerfully grinning Jet Star as he strolled over, heading to the diner himself.

“What’s got you so happy?” Ghoul asked. “You look like you just blew up a whole nest of dracs!”  
“A nest?” Jet laughed trying to picture it. “No, I just saw Kobra. I can’t believe he finally listened to you!”  
“Kobra?” Ghoul looked confused. “Why what have I said?”  
“Not you,” he shook his head, “Party.”  
“Party?” Ghoul was half way between confused and concerned and had a growing horrible feeling he knew where the conversation was heading.  
“Yeah, letting him do the delivery himself,” Jet jerked a thumb behind him. “He’s just left.”  
“What!” Ghoul's eyes widened at the news. "He told him not to go!"

Turning his eyes out to the desert, Ghoul looked frantically for any sign of the Trans Am but there was nothing to be seen. Nothing but miles of sand.


	2. After the Dust Settles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kobra heads out on the mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might not be able to post any more on this for about a week, so here's Chapter 2. Hope you enjoy! Sas x

“He took the meds!” Ghoul shouted angrily.  
“Well, yeah,” Jet was at a loss to understand. Even if Kobra had gone against Party’s express instructions the medical supplies were meant to be heading out to Dust Bowl anyway.  
“You don’t understand!” he repeated in frustration as he continued to scan the horizon. “We need them for Party! He'll get worse without them!”  
“What?” Jet’s eyes widened. “Does he know?” he asked hesitantly.  
“No,” Ghoul replied in a frustrated tone as he turned back to face his friend. “He wouldn’t have gone if he’d known. We thought Party was going to be okay, but after Kobra had gone, Doc asked me to get some more meds for him from the trunk. Without them, he’s gonna get worse again. What he’s given him will get him on the way, but he needs the other tablets too.”

As he spoke, Ghoul’s pitch and volume were increasing and his final words almost garbled in his hurry to speak.

“Ghoul, it’s okay,” Jet replied in as calm a voice as he could muster. We’ll take Doc’s van and get after him.”  
“He’s got such a head start, we’ll never catch him.”  
“We don’t have to catch him! We can contact him on the radios, let him know to hold some of it back. We know where he’s going, we can meet him. It’ll be fine, Ghoul, it’ll all be fine.”

Nodding slowly as he took in the words, Ghoul sighed when another thought occurred to him. Almost instantly his nod turned to a shake.

“If we go after him now, what message are we sending? We’ll be saying we don’t trust him. It’s bad enough he thinks Party’s being overprotective.”  
“He is,” Jet agreed, as the pair began to calm slightly.  
“I know he is. Kobra’s more than capable; you know I’ve been arguing his case for months. So if we chase after him now…”

Fun Ghoul left the words hanging. He desperately wanted to take the van and retrieve the pills to ensure his love’s full recovery but knew that if he did, Kobra would be humiliated.

“How about we contact him, he won’t be out of range for a while. We just tell him that he needs to bring back whatever it is that Doc wants and we’ll see him when he gets back. How about that?”  
“Yeah,” Ghoul inhaled a deep calming breath. “Everyone wins; Party gets better, Kobra’s had his first solo mission and Party’ll just have to accept it.”  
“Right, let’s do that,” Jet placed his hands on the younger man’s shoulders to check that he was all right. In response, Ghoul smiled up.

“I have to go tell Doc that I haven’t got any water for him.”  
“I did a treatment this morning,” Jet began, pointing over his shoulder, only to be interrupted.  
“I said I’d get him a bottle,” Ghoul shrugged. “He did just save Party’s life.”

Jet nodded; good water was just so scarce lately. They had originally worked out how to treat the collected barrels of acid rain to use for washing, but recently they had needed to start drinking it too. It tasted foul, but there seemed no good solution; the acid in the rain would be sufficient to burn the intestinal linings should they drink it and some of the parasites that found their way in to the barrels could turn a man’s brain inside out. The sterilisation and alkalisation processes to make the water safe also made it almost unbearable to drink.

“I have one,” he replied.  
“You do?” Ghoul raised a surprised eyebrow.  
“Yeah,” Jet nodded. “I rationed out…” he tipped his head as he considered the timing, “my supply two before the last time we kept any. I wanted to keep one, like for emergencies or celebrating or something.”

The statement almost broke Ghoul’s heart as he heard it. It wasn’t so much that Jet had a bottle of water, a precious bottle of water, that he was happy, even eager, to give to Doctor Death Defying for saving their friend. No, it was the concept that their world was now so broken and torn that a single small bottle of water would be treasured as something to celebrate with. Oh, how the world had crumbled in the last few years.

“Ghoul?” Jet enquired tentatively as he noticed his eyes seem to glaze.  
“Er… yeah, that’s great, Jet. Thanks, really.” he nodded. “Thank you,” he forced a smile. “Do you want to do that and I’ll contact Kobra.”  
“Sure,” Jet tipped his head again. “Sure you’re okay?”  
“Yeah,” Ghoul nodded, tapping his hand on his friend’s arm. “I better call before he goes out of range.”  
“Okay,” Jet nodded. “I’ll let Doc know what’s going on too.”  
“Thanks,” Ghoul nodded and raised his hand as he headed to the van. Their own personal radio in the diner would have worked fine, he was reasonably sure, but Death Defying’s radio had a much further range and even if Kobra had red-lined the car all the way, he should still be able to reach him. Selecting the right frequency, Ghoul pressed the trigger on the hand-held receiver.

“KK, acknowledge.”

Ghoul paused, releasing the trigger and listening intently but hearing only static as a reply.

“KK, are you out there, man.”

Static.

“Kobra! Answer the fucking call, man! It’s important!”  
“What?” Came the reluctant reply.  
“We need something,” Ghoul tried to be discreet.

It didn’t take a genius to know that radio signals could be listened in on. The less he said the better, either of them for that matter.

“What do you need?”  
“Meds.”  
“Is this for Party? He’s okay. He doesn’t…”  
“Fuck, Kobra, we’re on vox you know!” Ghoul snapped, angrily, pushing his hand through his hair in frustration.  
“If you can’t tell me what you want then… Oh, I get it,” Kobra still sounded angry. “You just want me to turn around, don’t you?”  
“No!” Ghoul snapped, his anger with Kobra’s responses growing by the second. It was a wonder he hadn’t said where he was heading yet. “Ademen, one strip,” Ghoul finally conceded that he had to give some information out. “Can you confirm?”  
“Ademen, one strip, I can do that.”  
“Stay safe, man,” Ghoul responded with a sigh; he didn’t want his words to sound heated.

It was going to be tough enough for Kobra alone without him being further distracted by angry thoughts of what was going on or being said or thought back at their base.

“You too. Out.”

Ghoul sighed. It wasn’t much of a conversation, but at least it had sounded as though he had calmed a little. Perhaps it would be a blessing in disguise? When Kobra returned safe and sound from his mission and Party had recovered fully, he hoped he’d be able to see that his brother could look after himself? Or at the very least it might force them to have a much-needed conversation on filial trust. He could only hope. Shutting down the radio set and securing the van, Ghoul felt the first hint of the cool night air and he shivered unexpectedly. The difference between the daytime and night-time temperatures out in Zone 6 was staggering. It would be stifling, sweltering heat during the day but could drop to bitter cold before dawn. The necessity for layers and jackets and boots was pronounced, especially this far out from Battery City. He looked out to the desert once more, the dark night restricting his view to maybe one or two lights in the distance. Neither were likely to be Kobra, probably just an RV passing through the Zones. It seemed unlikely to be any BLI operatives, night raids were rare this far out as word would get to them almost as soon as they headed out on Route Guano. It simply wasn’t worth their time heading that far out, especially as the Killjoys knew the Zones far more intricately than any of the dracs. Maybe not Korse, Ghoul frowned. But looking out again, the lights were already dimming into the far distance. If they were doing anything, they were heading away. Wrapping his arms around himself as the night air nipped at his sleeves, Fun Ghoul blew out a heavy breath that he didn’t even realise was being held. Turning slowly, he trudged back toward the diner, sparing a last glance out toward the pitch black horizon.

“Stay safe, Kobra,” he frowned uneasily. “Remember you promised.”

*

Kobra Kid felt a little more relaxed since speaking to Fun Ghoul. Actually, if he were honest with himself, he felt guilty. He’d argued with his friend before taking off, just like the irresponsible kid he claimed he wasn’t. He should at least have been man enough to apologise to Ghoul when they spoke, but again, his temper had got the better of him. The worst part of it all was who he’d yelled at. He knew the many efforts Ghoul had made to help his brother change his mind about letting him run solo missions. Of course, he had been angry at Party for being stubborn, and even for being ill, as seemingly ridiculous as that sounded. He had been humiliated in front of Doctor Death Defying and that had been hard to take. Worse still, how had he repaid the doctor for saving his brother’s life?

“That’s right, Kobra,” he snapped at himself, talking as if he were someone else, berating him. “You yelled at him because he called you ‘kid’, well, he would wouldn’t he? If you’re going to call yourself Kobra Kid, some people are going to call you Kid! You’ve just made a complete fool of yourself!”

He sighed heavily; why was he talking to himself like that? Was it just too difficult to say: ‘I made a fool of myself’? Saying ‘I’ makes things far too real, he finally concluded. He hadn’t acted like a child because he was treated like one – it was the other way around. A self-perpetuating pattern. After tonight’s behaviour, did he really expect Party, or anyone for that matter, to treat him like the person he so wanted to prove himself to be?

“It’s going to change, I’m going to change,” he nodded to himself.

He momentarily considered heading back to the diner, but he was so close to Dust Bowl already that it really didn’t make any sense. He would finish the delivery and head back with the pills for Party.

“And,” he adjusted the frequency on the radio clipped to his belt, “I’m going to apologise to Ghoul.”

Raising the radio, he frowned as he saw that he was out of range for the diner radio. About to switch to Doctor Death Defying’s boosted radio frequency, Kobra was suddenly blinded by a bolt of white light that seemed to spring up in front of the car, completely enveloping him and the surrounding area. Throwing his arm up to protect his eyes, Kobra was forced to press hard on the brake. Without time to even scan the area for danger, a rumble emanated from beneath the car. It was like nothing he had ever heard or felt before. The Trans Am seemed almost to bounce briefly, and it felt as though he was bobbing in a small boat on the sea.

Immediately the engine cut and the car began to skid out of control but Kobra was in no condition to try to control it. The sound that he had felt beneath his feet had risen through the seat and now felt as though every cell in his body was shaking and at the same time riding some sort of giant wave. He had lost control of all limbs and could neither speak nor see. Even the deep rumble he had heard had become incomprehensible. Rising higher still, the wave reached his brain and Kobra felt a piercing pain as if the sound was trying to break out through the top of his skull.

By the time the Trans Am skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust, Kobra hung partially out of the door, unmoving.

As the dust began to settle, two figures holding small lights stepped out of the darkness and approached the car.

“Hmm,” one of the figures grunted in mild disappointment. “Not the right one, but it’s a good start.”


	3. Kobra wakes to a nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What has happened to Kobra? And how will Ghoul and Jet find him?

The bright white light had flooded the horizon and even three zones away, it had been seen from inside the diner.  
  
"What the hell was that?" Jet Star looked up from where he was seated, hunched over his guitar.  
As one Fun Ghoul and Dr Death Defying looked up as the sound of the blast - a deep, low, undulating rumble - reached them; one expression puzzled, the other concerned.  
  
"Ghoul," the doctor, nodded toward the window. "What does the sky look like?" He asked with an earnest expression firmly fixed on his face.  
"The sky?" Ghoul queried, uncertain as to why.  
"Ghoul, the sky, please. If I'm right it won't last long."  
Ghoul, moved quickly to the window and glanced out, staring in wonder at the horizon.  
"Its green, fading up to red, the higher it goes."

  
Jet pushed himself to his feet as quickly as he could to see the unusual sight but it was already beginning to fade to a deep purple before disappearing altogether.

  
"Doc?" Ghoul queried, as he saw his expression grow ever more grim. "What is it?"  
"An EM Spike Mine," he replied shaking his head slowly. "They used them in the Helium Wars, briefly. They render electronic equipment inoperable, but they had an equally violent effect on the brain. They banned them completely," he frowned deeply, his brow furrowing. "I don't want to even think about BLI using them to bomb the Zones."  
"How far away did it look?" Jet asked, concerned for their safety.  
"A long way," he shrugged, "maybe... Kobra!" He suddenly yelled, almost vaulting the counter to reach the satellite phone.  
  
Jet's guitar was abandoned and forgotten as he too rushed to Ghoul's side and powered the battery pack while his friend selected the correct frequency.  
  
"KK, acknowledge," Ghoul shouted urgently into the receiver. "KK!" He yelled again. "Come in. Kobra!"

  
Switching the frequency to an emergency signal, Ghoul, barely even paused to activate the scrambler to avoid detection. He glanced bleakly at Jet as he began his message.

  
"Killjoys for Kobra Kid, Code Gravity, acknowledge and report. Repeat, Gravity, acknowledge and report!"  
  
Listening intently; at first all there was to hear was static. Empty, static continued to fill the diner and Ghoul found himself repeating the open message three more times before anything other than the empty fizz and pop of nothing cleared the airwaves. Snatches of words began emerge; the voice, although incoherent, sounded panicked and urgent. Ghoul repeated himself twice more before a crackling but almost complete sentence stood out from the white noise.  
  
"Attacked... Trans Am attacked... I'm... power gone..."  
"Kobra! Is that you?"  
"Attacked... power gone..." part of the message was repeated. "Holed up but... ...ery low... help!"  
"Kobra!" Ghoul yelled into the handset. "Where are you?"

  
The set returned only static thereafter and Ghoul lowered the handset, staring at Jet, tense and uncertain.

  
"Was that Kobra?" He asked, his brow creased with stress.  
"It could have been," Jet frowned deeply. "It was too messed up, couldn't hear him clearly. He did mention the trans am though."  
"He did," Ghoul nodded, as he snatched up his gun before pushing Jet's pistol into his hand. "We have to find him."  
"We don't know where he is or if that was him!" Jet replied placing a hand on Ghoul's chest in an attempt to stop him racing from the diner.  
"We know he was going to Dust Bowl. That's that way," he threw his arm out in the direction of where the explosion had come from. "You wanna leave him?"  
"We don't know it was him!" Jet protested. "He didn't use the emergency code."  
"He might have," Ghoul argued, "we didn't hear the whole message."

  
Jet grabbed the shorter man's arms and held him firmly, staring with pleading eyes, imploring him to listen.

  
"Jet, Kobra could be out there in trouble!" Ghoul complained, trying to free himself from Jet's grip.  
"And it could just as easily be a BLI trap! It wouldn't be the first one."  
"Either way, that explosion was real and if Kobra is out there then it's likely he's in trouble!"

  
Jet lowered his eyes; Ghoul was right.

  
"I still think it's a trap," he added quietly.  
"Then I'll go on my own," Ghoul snapped.  
"No you won't..."  
"I'm going!" Ghoul finally managed to pull free, almost losing his balance in the process.  
"You're as bad as Kobra!" Jet yelled before calming himself almost immediately. "I mean, we'll both go, but we'll go prepared."  
"I'll come too," Death Defying added his voice into the mix.  
"Sorry, Doc," Jet shook his head. "We need you to look after Party. We can't leave him alone, it's not safe. But we need your van... please?" He added almost as an afterthought.  
"Ghoul's got the keys," the doctor nodded. "Just be careful okay!"  
"We'll be fine," Jet responded confidently.  
"I meant with the van," the older man smirked. "Take the bazooka. Bring him back. I'll get Pony to come over, in case I need legs. Don't worry, Party'll be fine with us."  
  
*  
  
Kobra Kid woke slowly. His head felt cloudy and as if his brain had been fed through a blender before being inexpertly reassembled. It was dark. Not a night time dark, it was unnaturally dark and he was struggling to breathe. The air felt old and stale, almost as if he had already breathed it more than once. His mouth was parched and as he tried to lick his lips, he felt the cloth deep across his tongue, pulling painfully at the corners of his mouth. His breathing hitched and his eyes flew wide as he tried to keep himself from panicking. Lying on his side, he quickly realised that his hands were bound behind his back. A quick shift in position signalled that his ankles were similarly bound and fastened to... another quick tug... fastened to his belt, keeping them permanently bent. Whoever had him knew of his martial arts abilities and had taken precautions. Stretching out his fingers, he silently felt for the knot fastening the rope to his belt, but it seemed to have been looped through and presumably was tied much further down, far out of reach.

  
Okay, he thought to himself, wrists. Again, the knot was beyond his reach and the rope wrapped so tightly that all movement seemed only to hurt.What made it worse was that he remembered very little. The last he remembered was... what was the last thing he remembered?  
  
His head tilted back as he tried to look around. He knew it was useless, but the sensation that the horizon had just tilted meant wherever he was, he had been lifted up in some way. Yes, some sort of box and he was being carried. He felt the uneven shake of people of different heights inexpertly struggling with a heavy box. He hoped that whatever was happening to him would be explained very soon as he heard the sounds of metal scraping close to his head and realised that it was the distinct sound of bolts being shoved back.

  
Kobra squinted painfully as a bright white light flooded his world and acted as a trigger for his memory. The bright white light, the explosion, losing control, the pain! His racked body filled with pain as, against his better judgement, he wasted precious energy struggling against his bonds as he raged with anger at his situation.  
  
Who was it? BLI? Korse? Did those bastards have him? They had tried time and time again to capture them all. The Fabulous Four were a beacon of hope to all occupants of the Zones and hundreds, possibly thousands, in Battery City. How did they know where to find him and what the hell was that explosion? He'd never seen anything like it.

  
Slowly as he grew accustomed to the light, he saw a face peering down at him.

  
"You'll only hurt yourself, you know." The voice promised.

  
There was a slight hint of amusement in the tone that infuriated him all the more and he responded by thrashing harder within the box. Breaking sweat and expending far too much energy, Kobra gave up with a sigh. All he was doing was playing into her hands. Yes, her. He'd never seen her before, and from what she was wearing, he had to assume she was not part of BLI's S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit.  
  
"Let him out," she ordered, standing back to allow two men to approach.  
  
Kobra let them. They had to untie him to do that and when they did, they'd be sorry. Untying the rope fastening his ankles to his belt, Kobra was finally able to extend his legs. From the feel of the ache around his knees at the movement, he had been bound like that for some hours.  
  
"You may be disoriented," she spoke again. "And, you may think you can escape. You can't."  
  
Kobra turned a harsh expression toward the woman as he was lifted from the box and made to stand, his ankles now untied too. He looked directly at her, eyes blazing, as the cloth was pulled surprisingly gently from his mouth.  
  
"Who are you?" He asked, irritated that his voice sounded raspy and weak.  
"I am The Collector," she replied evenly earning a puzzled stare in response.  
  
Slight and standing a few inches shorter than him, she was dressed in a long, glamorous red beaded dress, her auburn hair and make up perfect and flawless. Beautiful, he thought, she barely seemed remotely threatening to look at, but there was something about her voice that was ice cold.Somehow, it gave him pause and he continued to stare.  
  
"Do you want to see my collection?" She asked with a smile.  
"Where am I?"  
"In my museum, of course."  
  
There was something very wrong with the ease and disconnection of her replies. Kobra's eyes darted quickly around the entirely white room and spying an open door only a few feet away, began a roundhouse kick to strike at the men still standing nearby.  
  
His leg was barely off the floor when a sharp, searing and debilitating pain seemed to seize every nerve in his body. Collapsing breathlessly to the floor, Kobra struggled to regain his senses. Looking up he saw that neither man had moved.  
  
"Wh...what did...?" Kobra tried to ask, as he slowly recovered.  
"I've fitted you with a governor," she explained simply. "You'll do what I want, when I want, no more, no less."  
  
She watched quietly as the two men pulled him back to his feet.  
  
"Now, do you want to see my collection?" She asked again.  
"Fuck you!" Kobra yelled angrily.  
  
She merely smiled in reply, frustrating her volatile prisoner all the more.  
  
"Come," she beckoned as she headed toward the far wall where another door stood.  
  
With his hands bound behind him and still feeling the after affects of the governor, Kobra had little choice but to follow. Perhaps there would be other chances to escape?  
  
The first hall - another white room - was filled with impressionist paintings and stunning scenery and portraits, some quite darkly painted in heavy oils.  
  
"This is the artwork I managed to salvage. You can see there are many famous pieces here by great masters such as Monet and Renoir, DaVinci and Vermeer."  
  
Kobra barely glanced at it.  
  
"This is the Ancient Egyptian section," she announced as they walked through another room filled with artefacts, costumes, jewellery and sarcophagi. "And through there, Ancient Greece and Rome."  
  
He didn't even look.  
  
"I can see you're not interested in history," she chuckled. "Well, perhaps you'll be interested in this?"  
  
As they walked into the next room, Kobra's widening eyes took in the terrifying scene. Across one wall was a mock up of the exterior of the diner, every detail perfect, even down to the magazines and BLI vending machine. Another wall displayed four eighteen foot tall full-length photos of him, Party, Ghoul and Jet. A sign, made from neon, with the words, "The Fabulous Killjoys" took up the whole of the wall above the shell of the diner. Worse still, at the far end stood four large Perspex cells, each with one of their names etched into it colourfully.  
  
Once again in the grip of the two men, Kobra struggled violently, as they dragged him toward the cell with his name on it. Each time he looked as though he might pull free from one, the pain returned and he sagged in their grip. By the time the cell loomed and the door slid open, Kobra was barely standing. Releasing him from the rope around his wrists, the two men pushed him to the floor inside the cell and stood back as the door closed.  
  
Kobra pushed himself to his feet and slammed his hands on the Perspex door, staring with wild, terrified eyes at the woman.  
  
"Welcome to my museum, Kobra Kid."

 


	4. Little Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghoul and Jet find the trans am, but it's not all they find

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to the lovely BrokenChemicalHeart for the kind use of her OFC, Little Red - thanks, m'dear!

Ghoul looked the device in his hand, the tracker sweeping over a map with a small blinking light now almost dead centre.

“We should see it any minute,” he said without looking up as Jet squinted into the distance.  
“There!” Jet almost shouted.

Looking up, Ghoul nodded. Almost hidden by dust and merging into the desert stood the abandoned trans am, exactly as it had been left by Kobra’s attackers. Slowing as they drew near to approach in near silence, Jet brought the van to a complete stop several yards away. Stepping down into the cool night air, the pair drew their guns and walked slowly and warily towards the vehicle. Jet hitched a breath as he saw an outline and a brief glimpse of movement in the back seat.

Both now running forward but keeping their steps as light as possible to maintain the stealth of their arrival. Each taking one side of the car, both Ghoul and Jet flung open the car doors, hoping to see Kobra, but ready for anything, well, almost.

A petite and slender young woman with ‘bed-head’ blonde hair, turned a harsh glare up at Jet as he disturbed her sleep.

“Get your own fucking car!” she yelled. “And shut the door, you’re letting the cold in!”

Leaning on the top of the car door, Jet offered Ghoul a wide-eyed and exasperated, _did-that-really-happen_ look. Ghoul shrugged with a small smirk at Jet’s response as they both returned their guns to their holsters. With a sigh, Jet leaned in and grasping her ankles, pulled hard.

“Out you come, little girl,” he laughed as she struggled against his strong grip, writhing and venting her frustration as, despite being quite physically strong herself, Jet was both stronger and had the advantage of being out of reach.

“I’m not a little girl!” she shouted angrily as Jet finally got her outside the trans am and pushed her gently against the now closed car door.  
“Feisty,” Ghoul grinned, as Jet planted his hands on her shoulder to push her back once more.

Jet stared at what he now realised was a young woman, an inch or two shorter than Ghoul wearing an inky purple pair of skinny jeans and a lighter purple and, what had once been, white leather jacket ingrained with dust and dirt accumulated over time and hardship out in the Zones. He allowed the tension to drop from his shoulders, as she stared up at him, her expression softening slightly being replaced by a fleeting look of curiosity.

“Who are you?” she asked, hesitantly.  
“Never mind who I am,” Jet responded, still surprised at her forthrightness. “What were you doing in our car?”  
“Your car?” she replied, taken aback. “I found it! It was just abandoned!”  
“Where’s the driver?” Jet asked, ignoring her response.

The woman tilted her head before making a show of looking in the driver’s seat.

“Seems to have gone somewhere,” she deadpanned.  
“Where is he?” Jet shook her.  
“Get your hands off me!” she yelled trying to push him away without success. “I don’t know where he is! I don’t know, okay?”  
“What are you doing in our car?” Jet repeated.  
“Sleeping!”  
“The supplies are gone,” Ghoul announced closing the trunk with concern. One solitary strip of Ademen was all he needed and someone had taken everything.  
“Supplies!” the woman snapped. “Oh, man! Why didn’t I find it earlier?”  
“When did you find it?” Jet pressed.

It had taken them two hours to drive there and knowing a timeline of events gave them more chance of finding Kobra.

“I don’t know!” she snapped in return.  
“When did you find it!” Jet yelled this time.

Ghoul’s head snapped up; it took a lot to get Jet upset but there was something about this woman that just seemed to press his buttons. Their eyes were locked and intense in their animosity in a way that Ghoul had never seen – well certainly not with any Zonerunner before.

“Hey man, easy,” Ghoul walked to his side. “She just found the car, she doesn’t know anything.”

Jet couldn’t break eye contact, there was something. Something. He couldn’t place it.

“She knows,” he insisted, narrowing his eyes. “She knows something.”  
“I don’t know who you are,” she snapped at Jet, “or you,” she turned her head to look at Ghoul, “or your damn driver. Now, I’m sorry I slept in your car, but I didn’t know that either. Now get your hands off me!”

Finally managing to push Jet’s hands away, she ducked under his arms and started to walk away. Ghoul scratched his head as he looked at Jet, still unmoving.

“Wait!” he called as he ran over to her.  
“What?” she replied with a heavy exhalation as she turned to face the Killjoy.  
“Our friend was attacked,” he explained. “We’re trying to find him.”  
“I don’t know anything about it, really. I’m not lying to you. I had nowhere to sleep, your car was just there…” momentarily she left the sentence hanging. “Is that your van too?”

Ghoul smiled broadly.

“When did you last eat?” he asked kindly.  
“What day is it?” she asked quietly.

Ghoul raised an eyebrow; that long?

“We’ve got some cans in the van and some recycled water.”  
“Bragging or offering?” she tipped her head and smiled.  
“What do they call you?” Ghoul asked.  
“Little Red,” she said.

Ghoul eyed her in puzzlement.

“You’re blonde.”  
“Well aren’t you the observant one,” she smirked. “I know, but it sounds better than Little Blonde, doesn’t it? Besides, it’s got nothing to do with my hair.”  
“Fair enough,” Ghoul nodded, crossing his arms. “What does it refer to?”  
“Would you like my boot size too?” she asked defensively.

Ghoul raised his hands in defeat; he hadn’t meant to pry.

“What’s your name?” Red asked, surprised it wasn’t already forthcoming.

Ghoul paused, chewing his lip as he considered answering. He was, after all, a wanted man. She obviously hadn’t recognised him from the posters, which he was glad was actually a difficult thing to do. Black and white photos with a giant red X through the face weren’t exactly conducive to helping anyone recognise an individual. His name, however, that was different.

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes at his reluctance to reveal his name, “I’ll just call you Shorty and him Frizzy. Okay?”

Ghoul couldn’t help but smile again. His first impression was spot on – feisty!

“Come on,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, moving it quickly when she flinched. “Sorry,” he added quickly.  
“No,” she shook her head, as the pair walked back toward the van. “I was floored by an explosion. Must have landed funny.”  
“You saw that?” Jet asked as he joined them. His tone still had an edge to it.  
“I didn’t see it,” she snapped at him, “I was in it! Jeez, what’s your problem?”

At the words, it seemed that Jet suddenly snapped out of whatever was troubling him. He shrugged and frowned deeply.

“Hey,” she smiled thinly, extending her hand and giving his forearm a slight squeeze. “You’re worried about your friend, I get it. I woke up about an hour ago and about ten minutes later I found the car. I thought it was abandoned, really.”

Jet nodded and signalled to the van.

“Come on, we might even have a painkiller in there.”  
“So, what’s next?” Ghoul asked as they walked. “We’ve hit a dead end.”  
“We call Candi Crush in Dust Bowl,” Jet frowned. “See what she’s heard.”  
“And if she knows where the meds are,” Ghoul prompted.  
“Second on my list,” Jet replied.

*

Kobra’s cell was well equipped with a private area sectioned off at the back, and what he had originally seen when dragged over was only half of the unit. That had been a viewing area. He wasn’t in a museum, he was in a goddamned zoo!

He had no doubt that somewhere in another room, perhaps via a camera, someone was laughing at him as he moved his hands over every inch of the Perspex looking for a weakness or some sort of secret panel. Anything! He’d squeeze through a two-inch hole if he had to. The door appeared to be electrically powered; there were no locks to pick. Taking advantage of his martial arts training, Kobra launched into a series of Push Kicks that thundered into the door at what he believed to be a variety of potential weak points. Sweating profusely, over thirty kicks later, with his back aching from the door’s resistance, Kobra staggered backwards, resigned to the fact that, for the moment, he was trapped.

Heading to living quarters, he flopped down heavily on the bed. Compared to the diner, the private area of the cell was a palace. A ten by twelve foot space complete with bed, washing and toilet facilities even a small table and chair. It even had running water – actual water, that you could drink without it burning your insides. But all that aside, it was still a prison and he had to get out.

She was intent on capturing all four of them and that was terrifying enough, but what scared him more than anything was her knowledge of the diner. How did she know where they lived? How did she know so much about them? How did she know where to find him? With sudden terrifying clarity, he knew. Someone had given them up to her. A contact? Someone had been watching them? A friend? Someone who knew where he was going to be. He couldn’t even begin to guess who that might be. There was no one new in their lives, everyone they worked with they’d known for a long time. Could it mean that whoever had given him up would help her get the others too? She was rich. She could offer that person anything. What would a desperate person do for what she was offering?

He rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward dropping his chin onto his clasped hands staring at nothing. Party was ill and still weak. Without the medicine he was supposed to take back his brother would get sicker and struggle to defend himself. Party had told him he wasn’t ready for a lone run and like a child he’d disobeyed and proved him right in style by getting captured and endangering them all. Letting out a low guttural scream of frustration, he leapt to his feet and lashed out with a powerful kick, connecting with the table. Careering across the room, the small table crashed against the wall and split and splintered into pieces.


	5. Contacting Candi Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jet and Ghoul call their contact in Dust Bowl for any news on Kobra

Pulling back the side door of the van, Ghoul jumped inside and helped Red in as Jet followed behind. Only once she was inside did she feel suddenly wary.

“Hey,” she snapped as she saw Jet about to close the door. “You guys aren’t Zonecreepers are you? ‘Cause I warn you now…!”

Jet screwed up his face in distaste at the idea of what she was suggesting. Ghoul raised an eyebrow. No, of course they weren’t, they would never lay a single unwelcome finger on her, but Jet’s reaction was more extreme than he had expected. Clearly, Jet was repulsed by the idea. Ghoul smiled; he knew Jet was a decent guy, this not only confirmed it but announced it to the world.

“I’ll leave the door open,” Ghoul suggested, then added: “Would that make you feel better?”  
“Yeah,” Red replied, feeling both glad she didn’t have to fight them and strangely comforted. “Thanks.”

Jet leaned forward and grabbed at the handle of a large yellow box and dragged it closer. Opening it up revealed it to be a somewhat battered but functional satellite phone.

“GEO or LEO?” Jet asked.  
Ghoul pondered the question for a moment. “We’re in Zone 3 so it shouldn’t matter too much,” he said with a shake of the head. “Use GEO though, just in case.”

Jet nodded as he extended the antenna, fired up the charge and punched in the details.

“What’s that mean?” Red asked.  
“Geosynchronous or Low Earth Orbit satellites. You get different signal strengths and quality, but LEO is easier to track,” Ghoul explained.  
“You don’t want to be tracked?”  
“No,” Ghoul frowned, as he handed her a small strip of painkillers and the obligatory cup of foul tasting recycled rain water. “we don’t.”  
“You’re being very mysterious, Shorty” she chuckled. “Anyone’d think you were wanted or something.”

Ghoul flinched.

“You are, aren’t you!” her eyes widened and she leaned forward in happy excitement. “What for?”

Behind them both, Jet turned an aggrieved frown toward Ghoul.

“I just don’t like being called Shorty,” Ghoul grumbled, hoping to distract her from the awkward conversation she seemed to want to have.  
“And if you even think of calling me Frizzy, you’ll regret it dearly, _little girl_ ,” Jet smirked as he said it.

Leaning back and without even looking at him, she thumped him squarely in the ribs.

“Hey!” Jet cried in a tone that seemed half laughter and half warning.

Ghoul merely stared in wonder. He’d never seen Jet interact with anyone like that before. Did he like her? It seemed almost like a scene from a high school classroom. He half expected one or the other to start pulling tongues or pulling hair. He’d known Jet a long time and even though they were all in or around their thirties he was most definitely the ‘adult’ of the group.

“So,” Red refused to drop it, “what are you wanted for?”  
“BLI don’t like us,” Ghoul finally replied.  
“BLI don’t like anyone,” Red replied, raising an eyebrow.  
“Okay, they _really_ don’t like us,” Ghoul looked down as he replaced the strip of tablets in the medical case.  
“No fun.”  
“What?”

Ghoul raised his eyes, misunderstanding her reply and believing her to have used his name. Only when she narrowed her eyes and tipped her head did he realise. That was too close! About to comment further, Red closed her mouth as the satellite phone crackled to life and Jet spoke.

“CC?”  
_“Hey! How’s my favourite…?” the voice began, only to be interrupted._  
“Keep tight, C, we’re on vox,” Jet cut in to let her know it wasn’t a private conversation.  
_“You in trouble, J?” she sounded concerned. “We were expecting you hours ago.”_  
Jet sighed. “You’ve not had the supplies?”  
_“No,” she sounded confused. “Where are you?”_  
“Near,” he replied hesitantly.  
_“What’s going on J? How could we have the supplies if you aren’t here?”_  
“K’s been ambushed,” he replied grimly. “I was hoping you’d found the supplies.”  
_“You think if I had I wouldn’t have called to let you know K was missing?”_  
“I’m sorry, C. I guess I just hoped,” he replied dejectedly. “I was hoping he was there with you.”  
_“Sorry, J, I haven’t seen him. He never got here. I thought P was coming?”_  
“He was, he got held up.”  
_“He’s okay though?”_  
“He’s… yeah, he’s fine,” Jet replied unconvincingly. “So, you’ve heard nothing?”  
_“Nothing, hun, sorry to hear that. I’ll get the word out though. Someone will know something. Someone always does.”_  
“Thanks, appreciate it.”

As if prompted by the reply, Ghoul tapped the medical box and Jet nodded.

“Hey, C, we need a strip of Ademen. Do you have any?”  
_“Let me check,” she replied, the sound of a box being opened crackled over the phone. “Yeah, is it important? It’s our last one.”_  
“It really is. Can you spare it?”  
_“For you?” she laughed lightly. “Of course! For crying out loud, J, if it wasn’t for you guys we’d barely have anything.”_  
“Thanks, C, I really appreciate it.” He smiled into the phone.  
_“Are you coming to pick it up?”_

Ghoul tapped Jet’s arm and pointed to himself. They would need to split up anyway as one of them had to drive the trans am. Jet nodded his agreement.

“Nah, not this time, sorry, G’s gonna swing by.”  
_“Oh, hey G! Didn’t know you were there too. Great, I’ll get the red carpet out!”_  
“I’m honoured!” Ghoul grinned.  
_“Yeah, got a can of K’s favourite here somewhere.”_  
“Maybe I’ll pass on that,” Ghoul screwed up his nose at the canned kibble. He would eat it, sure, but he had to be desperate. “There’s still so much sand to eat!” he joked.  
_“Okay, babe.” Candi’s light laugh spilled over the static. “I’ll see you soon then?”_  
“Sure!” Ghoul beamed; relieved to have located the medication he needed for Party.

Closing down the satellite link, Jet offered Ghoul a nod and a smile.

“At least we can get the meds,” he said with a shrug. “What do we do? Wait for news or…”

Jet paused. What else could they do? It was possible he’d been taken by BLI, but to know for sure, they would still have to wait for more information from their sources in Battery City. It crushed them to think of Kobra in someone’s hands, somewhere out there.

“There really isn’t an ‘or’,” Ghoul frowned and sighed sadly.

A silence hung over the van’s three occupants for what felt an age, but was probably less than a minute.

“I’ll take the trans am,” Ghoul broke the silence first. “It’s faster.”  
“Okay, makes sense,” Jet replied with a nod.  
“Who am I going with?” Red piped in cheerily, eyeing them with a meaningful grin.

Both men looked at the young woman who was turning her gaze between the two, waiting semi-patiently for a reply. Raising an eyebrow as a prompt, she continued:

“Or do I get to choose?”  
“You get to stay right here,” Jet replied, hardly believing she would assume anything different.  
“You’re going to leave a _little girl_ , alone, out in the Zones?” she replied, raising her voice and pitch with each phrase of her sentence.  
“Thought you weren’t a little girl,” Jet pouted in amusement.  
“Well, I’m not the one who thinks so and I’m not the one who’s leaving me, am I, Jet?”

Her final word raised heads and eyebrows as both men stared at her. Ghoul grabbed her arm, narrowing his eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked.  
“I told you!” she snapped back, her good humour disappearing as Ghoul’s fingers grew tight around her upper arm. Trying to break free, she twisted her arm and pulled away, all to no avail. His grip was too strong.  
“How do you know who we are?” he demanded.  
“You can’t be serious!” she snapped back, as she finally stopped struggling. “You guys may be able to run rings around dim-witted draculoids, but your codes suck! J, K, G and P? Really? I might not recognise you but I’m not stupid!”

Ghoul sighed deeply – she was right. He made a mental note to address that particular issue later, but it did present them with a very real problem. He was still uncertain as to whether she was in any way connected to Kobra’s disappearance. Had her presence in the car been merely coincidence? Did she know more than she was letting on? Could they afford to just turn her loose into the desert? If she was involved, she knew exactly where he was heading. Not that he could take her with him either. If Candi managed to get any details on Kobra’s whereabouts in the hour it would take to reach her, the last thing he needed was a stranger tagging along with him. Especially one he didn’t trust.

Raising an eyebrow, he glanced at Jet. From the look on his face, he had been considering something similar. Turning his palms out as he shrugged his shoulders, Ghoul waited for a response.

“With me?” Jet’s pitch soared as he pointed to himself.  
“Well, I can’t take her!” Ghoul pointed out. “What if I hear about Kobra?” It really wasn’t worth avoiding names any more.  
“But…” Jet spluttered.  
“Oh, no,” she deadpanned, her pouting expression one of exasperation, “don’t fight over me, please!”  
“We can’t leave her now,” Ghoul reasoned, ignoring her indignant comment.

Jet sighed and frowned deeply as he turned his eyes toward the newcomer.

“Well, I guess you’re coming with me then.”  
“Oh, what joy!” she retorted, her tone barely civil.

Ghoul pushed himself to his feet and jumped down from the van, noticing that it was starting to get light and as yet, none of them had slept.

“Play nice, children,” he smirked. “Daddy will be back soon.”

Jet watched as Ghoul headed toward the trans am. Rubbing the growing stubble on his chin, he rose and closed the van door before stepping over some boxes to get to the driving seat.

“Coming?” he indicated the passenger seat.  
“Your friend’s a freak,” Red announced playfully, as she used Jet’s shoulder for balance climbing over the same boxes with much shorter legs.  
“Yeah,” Jet chuckled, turning the key in the ignition.


	6. They Trust Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected visitors at the diner, and Ghoul arrives in Dust Bowl

At the sound of the car pulling up, Doctor Death Defying turned his chair to face the diner entrance. Now early morning, Jet had contacted him less than an hour ago once he had got back into range on the small portable radios the Killjoys kept clipped to their belts. It wouldn’t be long before he returned, but that sound was not the van pulling up.

“Pony,” he whispered to his friend who was sitting near to the window.

The young man leaned forward in his seat as the doctor indicated with his head that something was happening outside. Rising to his feet, Show Pony stood back from the window and peered through the blinds.

“Three guys,” he announced. “Tumbleweeds or Bin Rats from the look of it.”  
“They coming over?” Death asked.  
“Looks like it,” Pony replied, rising to his feet.

He knew what Death wanted him to do – cover Party Poison. As he headed over to one of the long booths in which Party Poison lay still unconscious, now moved from the counter that had effectively served as a makeshift gurney as he was treated, he grabbed an old tablecloth and threw it over the young man.

Doctor Death Defying didn’t know how many times he’d asked Party or Jet to put up a closed sign. Despite being so far out in Zone 6, too many people still rolled by and stopped at the diner on Route Guano expecting it to be functioning. The fact that it appeared to be in good condition with a motel and gas station only served to encourage them. But, he reflected, it was a double-edged sword. If people thought it deserted, they might just decide to try to move in as they had done some years earlier. There seemed no easy option.

A rattling alerted Death to arrival of the three men as they tried the door only to find it locked.

“Hey!” one yelled, banging heavily on the door once more. “We just wanna fill up on coffee!”

Pony picked up a pair of bright blue framed sunglasses and settled them on his nose. The pair watched and waited to see what the three men would do.

“Hey!” the man yelled again. “Open up!”  
“Get rid of them, Pony,” Death grumbled. “Don’t want them here when Jet gets back.”

Pony nodded, reaching down to a holster hanging off the back of the doctor’s wheelchair and plucked the bright pink ray gun, raising it to shoulder height as he headed for the door.

“We’re closed!” he shouted through the door.  
“Only if we say you are!” the angry reply came as the man raised his leg and kicked hard at the door without success.

Pony stepped forward and unlocked the door as he kicked it again. Flying open unexpectedly, the door slammed back of the first booth and half way back colliding with the man who had fallen through, crashing to the floor, huffing with pain as he planted his face into the smooth black floor.

Doctor Death Defying held a gun on the man on the floor while Pony offered a sweet smile and pointed his at the man standing behind.

“We don’t have any coffee!” Death announced angrily as the first man groaned, still dazed.  
“Where’s the third guy?” Pony took a step back, alarmed as he realised that one man was missing.  
“Always check your rear-view mirror,” came a sly voice from the side door of the diner.

Pony turned his head at the sound behind him and inhaled sharply as the third man stepped into view holding two guns, one trained on each of them.

“So, now,” the third man sneered. “Very slowly lower and drop your weapons.”

Neither Show Pony nor Death Defying had a choice; with three guns trained on them from different directions, they were outgunned. Pony bent his knees to lower himself closer to the ground before both he and Death allowed their guns to clatter to the floor.

“Now back away from the door and give me jazz hands,” the man instructed as his companion picked both himself and the guns from the floor.

Pony and Death, with very few options open to them, raised their hands into view; neither man making any move that would give away the position of the still unconscious Party Poison.

“What do you want?” Death asked getting immediately to the point, with a hard expression fixed on his face.  
“Well, I’ll start with that coffee,” the man who had surprised them – who Death Defying presumed was the leader – grinned at him maliciously.  
“Then?” Death pressed.  
“You have rooms, we need rooms, we get rooms and you get to live. Everyone’s happy,” he explained simply.

Death Defying turned his electric wheelchair without saying a word, only to have the man race to his side and grab his hand from the controls.

“Where are you going, old man?” he asked harshly, leaning over and crowding the doctor’s personal space.  
“Coffee,” he growled. “It’s behind the counter.”  
“How about I go?” the man shook his head in mistrust. “I don’t know what else you have behind that counter.”  
“Please yourself,” Death replied refusing to be intimidated by this Zone Punk.  
“Hey, I could use a few slammers,” called the man who had crashed through the door. “Check what they’ve got!”  
“You got alcohol, old man?” the leader sneered.  
“You got eyes, Punk?” Death Defying jeered in reply.

Quickly holstering one of the guns, the leader slammed a fist into the doctor’s cheek, forcing his head to the right and jarring his neck. Pony leaped forward to go to his aid only to pull up sharply as a gun was pushed into his chest.

“I think you both need to relax a little before one or both of you gets really hurt, don’t you?” the man who fell sniped, apparently keen to offer himself for the task.  
“I’m okay,” Death nodded toward Pony who was taking slow, deep angry breaths – furious with the intruders.

While both men were more than capable of handling themselves in a fair fight, unarmed and surrounded as they were, now was not that time.

Stepping behind the counter, the leader found the coffee pot on the hotplate just over half full. His nose crumpled at the smell.

“This is coffee?” he frowned as the acrid smell assaulted his senses.  
“No one said it was good,” Death Defying replied simply.  
“Where’s your alcohol?” the man growled.  
“Don’t have any.”  
“Where is your alcohol?” the man repeated slowly, his tone growing increasingly aggravated.  
“We don’t have any,” Death repeated, in a similar sounding tone.  
“I’m growing tired of you, old man!”

Death Defying narrowed his eyes at the insolent man. It infuriated him that there was nothing he could do to put this punk in his place, but for the time being, at least, he wasn’t going to risk anyone’s life to satisfy his own anger.

“We have coffee, no, strike that, we have lousy coffee and very little else.”  
“Where are your supplies?”  
“That comes under the category of ‘very little else’,” Death Defying snapped back.  
“I’ve had enough of your attitude, old man!”

Moving out from behind the counter, the leader stalked back towards the doctor, gun raised and arm extended. As he approached the radio crackled to life and a familiar voice filled the room.

_“Hey, D, what’s the gravity like there?” Jet’s voice asked cheerily._

The leader turned a deep suspicious frown toward the man in the wheelchair.

“Who’s this?” he asked,  
“A regular,” he shrugged.  
“Regular, eh?” the man frowned. “You better answer him then.”  
“It’s not necessary,” Death Defying bluffed.  
“I say it is, old man,” the man cocked the gun in his hand and trained it at Death’s head. “And don’t try to warn him, just get rid of him. Tell him your closed,” he sneered.

Death Defying suppressed the smirk and replaced it with a scowl, giving the impression that his ruse had been uncovered. Picking up the receiver, Death pressed the transmit button.

“Hey, J,” he answered trying to appear as if he was trying not to sound nervous. “Gravity’s low today man. Systems failure, kitchen’s out of action.”  
_“Sorry, man, that’s bad news. What about the party?” he asked cryptically._  
“Nah, not on the horizon yet, J. Maybe another three days? Got to get supplies, you know?”  
_“Shame, could have been just what we needed. No worries, let me know if you need anything. See you around.”_  
“Yeah, look after yourself and that van,” Death Defying quipped.  
_“I will, you too,” Jet laughed, as he signed off._

Death Defying lowered the receiver, his message sent, unbeknownst to their attackers.

“Nicely done,” the leader commented smugly.

 _Yeah_ , Death Defying mused, _that’s what I thought too_.

 

*

 

Jet took in a deep breath as he pulled another gun from the rucksack behind him and tucked it into a second holster that he was now strapping around his hip and securing to his right thigh.

“I take it back,” Red raised her eyebrows.  
“Take what back?” he asked, his brow lightly furrowed as he checked the battery packs on both guns, although he knew they were fully charged – they always were, he was very careful when it came to the weapons.  
“Your codes, they don’t suck nearly as much as I thought,” she grinned at him.  
“No, you were right the first time,” he chuckled. “Only one word of that was code, the rest was on the fly.”

To Jet’s surprise, this seemed to impress her more even than her previous assumption.

“So, what’s the deal?” she asked, wondering if she had caught the entire message herself.  
“What did you catch?” Jet asked, as he considered something.  
“Okay, so you saw the mystery car outside the diner and you needed to check in casually. Gravity is your code word for danger and he’s confirmed it by saying gravity is low, which is kind of the wrong way around, you know.”  
“That’s the point,” Jet replied. “It’s unexpected, it’s not flagging any responses they’re listening for.”

Red offered an almost grudging smile of appreciation at their ingenuity. Her initial impressions had been way off base.

“It’s how we’re still alive.” Jet offered, noticing her expression.  
“Well, it ain’t good looks and charm,” she grinned, poking him in the ribs.

Jet turned a disbelieving eye towards her.

“You’re really annoying!” he replied, still taken aback by her directness and familiarity.  
“So, do I get a gun?” she asked brightly?  
“Do you even know how to use one?” he smirked. It was a genuine question but he expected it to irritate her.

She seemed to be giving it some genuine consideration before finally shrugging in apparent indifference.

“I can,” she replied, “but I prefer a proper fight to a gun battle.”  
“These three have got guns,” he countered. “Your fists won’t help much against that. Even Kobra uses a gun.”  
“How do you know they’ve got guns?” she asked. “And for that matter, how do you know how many there are?”  
“Doc said so,” he answered without going into detail. “Do you want a gun?”  
“Do you trust me with one?” she asked surprised by the question.  
“No,” he replied simply, pressing an unpainted white gun fresh from a BLI vending machine into her hand. “Just don’t shoot any of the good guys.”  
“And just how will I know?” she asked, inspecting the gun and making sure the safety was off.  
“They’ll be the ones with the guns trained on them,” Jet replied dryly. “Oh, and a guy with red hair, maybe.”  
“I think I can just about remember that,” she pushed the door to the van open and jumped down. “Plan?”  
“Stealth, ambush, kill.”  
“Simple,” her smile broadened as Jet joined her outside the van. “I like it.”  
“Ready?” Jet checked with a quick glance.  
“Ready,” she nodded.

*

The population of Dust Bowl had recently grown over thirty percent as occupants of Battery City’s grossly overpopulated slum areas began to spill out into the Zones. The streets were unusually busy, but he had arrived after dawn and – just as in any town or city – people were heading to work. There wasn’t much in the way of work there other than the BLI factory, which churned out machine parts and, of course, batteries. BLI knew better than to risk their more sensitive products to the Zones and so all the pharmaceutical laboratories and factories were housed well within the walls of the city itself.

Parking the trans am in an old underground garage on the outskirts of Dust Bowl, Ghoul had made the rest of the way on foot. It may have seemed that he might be recognised, but the trans am was much more noticeable than a man on his own trudging through the streets. 

Ghoul lowered his head and walked briskly through the heat of the morning sun until he reached the bakery on Six and Twenty-One. The town streets were laid out in a simple grid system with even numbers running the length of the town and odd numbers, the width. It made it far easier to navigate than using names.

Pressing the button on the intercom for the door to the apartment above, Ghoul waited until a familiar voice and face greeted him on the monitor.

“Come in, babe,” Candi Crush called cheerily as the intercom buzzed briefly allowing the door to open.

Slipping through the door, Ghoul headed downstairs to the basement rather than upstairs to the apartment. Within moments he was greeted by Candi’s long-term boyfriend known as Ice Diamond.

“Ghoul, come in,” he nodded as he opened the door for the Killjoy. “Candi’s got what you need, she’ll be down in just a minute.”  
“Thanks, Ice,” Ghoul took a deep breath. “I can’t stay, I gotta get back as soon as I can.”  
“What’s wrong?” Ice asked. “Who’s the Ademen for?”  
Ghoul frowned deeply with concern. “Party.”  
“Party?” Ice raised an eyebrow. “Ademen’s strong stuff. He’s really ill?”  
Ghoul nodded bleakly. “I didn’t want to put it on vox when I spoke to Candi, but yeah, he’s really not in a good way.”  
“Huh!” Ice commented. “That’s too bad.”

Ghoul’s brow furrowed at the almost indifferent sounding response, but the reaction was short lived. Without warning, not even a ghost of a sound behind him, a muscular arm had wrapped itself tightly around Ghoul's chest, pinning his left arm and grabbing the right. At the same time a chloroform soaked cloth was clamped hard over his nose and mouth. Ghoul’s eyes flew open in panic as he was dragged backwards in an attempt to disorientate him and prevent him kicking to get free. The shock of the attack had made him gasp in surprise and having already taken in a lungful of the drug, his head was swimming. Struggling despite his weakening muscles, Ghoul refused to give in easily but despite his efforts the fight was over in seconds and Ghoul sagged in the man’s grip.

Allowing the Killjoy to slip unconscious to the floor, the man bagged the cloth before stuffing it into his pocket and removing the latex glove that had covered his hand.

“Well done,” the man laughed, looking down at his prize. “We still need Party Poison and Jet Star, but it seems at least one of those will be easy prey.”  
“Payment?” Ice growled impatiently.

The man gave a condescending laugh as he pressed a thick wad of carbons into Ice’s hand.

“The price doubles with each one you get. If that isn’t incentive, I don’t know what is.”  
“Don’t worry, you’ll get them. We already got two of them for you!” Ice laughed greedily as he examined the money in his hands, not even sparing the unconscious Killjoy at his feet a second glance. “We’ve known them a long time. They trust us.”


	7. Half Way There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghoul wakes only to wish he hadn't

The sleek black limousine pulled up at the tunnel barrier. Lowering the driver’s side window, the man looked out dispassionately as the anonymous smiley-faced BLI employee checked his identification.

“Name?”  
“Miles Sorby.”  
“Nature of business outside Battery City?” the BLI official asked.  
“Museum artefact collection,” the man replied.  
“Papers?”

The man handed over his documents to the official who inspected them briefly.

“Business concluded?” he asked.  
“No, we have two other scheduled visits to the Zones. The paperwork is all there.”  
“We?” the official asked as he flicked through the documentation to the final two pages.  
“My employer and I,” he explained.  
“It all seems in order, Mr Sorby. Your employer’s name?”  
“Evelyn Hart.”

The official handed the papers back to the driver and waved to a colleague to raise the barrier.

“Thank you, Mr Sorby. Have a better day.”

Raising the window once more, Sorby eased the car into gear and moved smoothly away. Behind a blackened glass barrier, Evelyn Hart sat opposite her latest acquisition.

“I expect it’s difficult for you, knowing you were betrayed by people you thought you could trust?”

The young man seated across from her merely stared, unblinking, angry, frustrated and silent.

She smiled as she allowed her eyes to roam slowly over his slender but toned body. If there was one thing she had to admit, The Killjoys were not only a valid cultural and modern iconic addition to her museum, but also delightfully and impressively handsome in looks and body.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to be restrained,” she admitted. “It can’t be very comfortable for you.”

Fun Ghoul swallowed. One of the first things his body had made him aware of when he had woken – even before opening his eyes – was the arrangement of leather straps holding him firmly in place. His wrists, he had expected, but a further set, fastened just below his elbows, ensured his immobility. Two more straps at his ankles backed up by one stretched across his thighs made certain that his legs were held equally securely. Two more straps remained. One pulled tight around his chest the other firmly around his neck, holding him stiffly upright with an almost choking pressure. Neither were necessary and in place purely to heighten his sense of helplessness. The last thing making it even worse was that it was obvious that this particular seat had been purpose built – indicating that perhaps he was not the first person to be held immobile inside her car? 

“What do you want?” he whispered hoarsely, the neck strap severely limiting his ability to talk.  
“What do I want?” she smiled. “I have what I want. Or at least, I’m half way there.”

Ghoul narrowed his eyes, momentarily confused and still somewhat dazed by the after effects of the chloroform.

“What could…” he paused in horror of the realisation of what she meant, his eyes widening and his lips parting at the thought that had invaded his hazy mind. “You’ve got Kobra?” he growled with distaste.

A satisfied smile – almost a smirk – spread across her lips. Her red lips giving way to a dazzling smile that, in other circumstances, Ghoul might have been mesmerised by.

“Yes, I have Kobra,” she laughed lightly. “And what a beautiful addition he makes to my museum.”  
“Museum?” Ghoul replied astonished.  
“Oh yes,” she smiled as she explained. “you are to be my first ever living, breathing artefacts.”

It took less than a moment for Ghoul to ponder the idea and react with anger and disgust at the concept.

“You’ve got him on display?” Ghoul’s fists clenched in fury at the news, pulling uselessly at the leather binding him. “You sick bitch!”

Shouting hurt him, but he couldn’t stop himself. His eyes blazed as he clenched his fists, his biceps tensing beneath his shirt as he strained against the straps.

Leaning forward and not moving her eyes from his, the woman – Evelyn Hart – trailed her fingers from Ghoul’s knees up to the strap across his thighs before placing both palms flat and moving her thumbs in small circles on his inner thighs.

“You know,” she smiled. “It doesn’t have to be all bad.”

Ghoul’s breathing quickened causing her to pull her fingertips together and she allowed her hands to slip between his thighs. But she had mistaken anger for arousal and Ghoul, unable to pull away and despite the agony in his throat, raged at her.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” he screamed, not caring if anyone heard him beyond the car.  
“You’re in Battery City now, Ghoul,” she snapped pulling back and slapping his cheek hard in fury and humiliation. “No one’s going to help you here. If anything, they’re more likely to kill you.”  
“I’d take on a whole pack of Crows unarmed before I’d let you touch me!” Ghoul snapped, incensed and violated by her touch and her assumption that he would welcome it.

Sitting back in her seat, Evelyn regarded him coolly. She had never been rejected. She had wealth, power and beauty and the combination of all those things had ensured that she had everything she had ever wanted. Indeed, one of those things was seated across from her this very moment. 

“You’ll regret those words,” she replied icily.

Moving to the seat alongside him, she reached over and placed her right hand on his left cheek, turning it slightly towards her, causing Ghoul to grimace as the additional pull on the strap around his neck caused more pain. She leaned into him, her lips grazing his right jaw and cheek. 

Ghoul closed his eyes, willing her to leave him alone but instead her response was to place a series of butterfly kisses down his neck. Pulling at his shirt, she kissed his right collar bone. It was more than he could stand.

“Get off me!” he screamed. Every muscle in his body tensed, wrenching at the straps but to no avail.

Her response was swift. Pulling back angrily at being scorned, she pulled at a ratchet lever behind Ghoul’s head and the neck strap tightened, forcing him to press his head back even further merely to allow himself to breathe.

“You only get one more chance to please me, Ghoul,” she snarled, pulling his hair backward, forcing him to look up at her.  
“Don’t hold your breath,” he whispered in response, his raspy voice struggling to emerge.  
“Don’t.” 

She pushed the ratchet one more notch.

“Assume.” 

Once more. 

“You’ll.” 

One more press and Ghoul’s head was swimming with pain and lack of oxygen. She completed her sentence pressing the ratchet after each word.

“Breathe.”

By now all Ghoul could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears. Passing out just as she spoke the final word, it seemed unlikely that he heard it.

“Again.”

*

“So,” the lead man of the three intruders to the diner moved in the direction of the corner booth. “What’s for breakfast, old man?”

At the question, his two companions perked up, one of them ushering Pony toward the counter. 

“I assume your maid cooks,” he added slyly.

Pony offered a disparaging glance, but happy to try lead them further away from the booth in which Party Poison lay.

“What was that?” The other man asked, hearing a noise by the side door. 

Turning, the lead man frowned as he saw a petite blonde woman carrying a large box entering through the door he himself had when he had surprised the others.

“Who the hell are you?” he growled noticing the lack of even a brief flash of recognition from either of their hostages.  
“Zone Mail Services,” she replied brightly, waggling the box meaningfully.

Raising his gun into view, the man scowled at the ridiculous answer – there was no such service.

“What do you want, little girl?”

Red pursed her lips. Not that again!

“I’m looking for a Mister…” she dragged out the last word as she inspected the label on the box. “A Mister Jerkwad,” she looked up smiling sweetly. “I guess that’s you?”

Extending his arm with an angry sneer, he never saw the flash of Jet’s weapon. Dropping the box, Red levelled her gun at the man closest to Jet, standing near the main entrance, and dispatched him with just as much ease.

The third man, leapt toward the counter and wrapped his arm around the unsuspecting Pony’s neck, placing his gun under his jaw.

“Everyone, just put the guns down,” he ordered with a sly grin, “or your maid never cooks again!”

Jet froze, cursing the man for his reaction time. Sparing a quick glance at Red, he realised that neither of them would be able to stop the man from killing Pony if he so chose.

“I said drop your weapons!” he yelled again. “How many…”

Jet’s eyes widened as the man first dropped to his knees then crumpled to the floor. Pony staggered backwards, uncertain what had happened. The eyes of three men and a woman exchanged quick glances in shared confusion. It was only when another voice piped up and a head of messy red hair emerged above the table of the far booth that anyone understood what had just happened.

“Can’t a guy get any sleep around here?” he smiled weakly, kicking off the remaining part of the tablecloth as he sat up.

“Party!” Jet grinned, overjoyed to see his friend finally awake and, hopefully, feeling better.

Doctor Death Defying wheeled over to his patient, noting the unusual paleness of his skin. It could never truly be said that he was blessed with a healthy glow at the best of times but, right now there was still very much a strong sense that he was not fully recovered.

“How are you feeling, Party?” the doctor asked.  
“Better than I was, Doc,” he shrugged. “Weak as a damn kitten though.”  
“Breathing still laboured?” he asked raising a stethoscope.

Party unzipped his jacket and allowed Death Defying to listen to his lungs under his shirt. Removing the instrument from his ears, the doctor frowned.

“You’ll live,” he announced.  
“Seriously, Doc,” Party shoved his shirt back into his jeans. “There’s no need to look quite so happy about it!”  
Death Defying smirked. “You’ll be okay once Ghoul gets back with the other meds for you.”  
“Ghoul?” Party smiled before trying to supress a hacking cough without success. “He took the supplies to Dust Bowl?”

Immediately, Party felt a chill seem to descend on the room. He glanced around at the worried expressions.

“What’s going on? Where’s Kobra?” he asked, finally his eyes landed on Red. “And who’s this?”

Jet moved forward; Party had missed a lot and there was a lot to explain but there was time; Ghoul would probably be another hour.

“Party,” Jet began. “This is Little Red, we found her near Dust Bowl…”  
“Where’s Kobra?” he repeated ignoring Jet’s opening explanation.  
“I’ll make some breakfast,” Pony announced ducking behind the counter.  
“Jet,” Party began again; there was a feeling in the room he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he knew it wasn’t good. “Where is Kobra?”  
“We don’t know,” he finally replied. “He’s been taken.”


	8. Where's Ghoul?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun Ghoul is taken to the museum

Kobra could hear noise. The sound of chatter, slowly ebbed and flowed beyond the doors to the space housing the Killjoy exhibition. Standing and straining to hear individual voices amidst the jumble of sounds, Kobra found himself even pausing his own breathing to minimise noise interference to his concentration. He frowned thoughtfully as he considered how he could improve his chances of catching even a few words. Finally settling on pressing an ear against the Perspex wall, Kobra focussed as the noise once again swelled near the doors. 

“… a new…”  
“… what it… exciting…”  
“… history… post-war…”  
“… culture…”  
“… iconic, it says… could mean? …”

Kobra stepped back suddenly understanding. There were people beyond the door, discussing whatever this new exhibition was that was sealed off to the public. Biting his lip, he stepped back and considered his possible options. He had no idea who these people were. There were several options that came to mind immediately – it could be the general public viewing the museum, invited guests, investors were a possibility too. She seemed wealthy from the way she presented herself, but did that necessarily mean that she was? Wealth was a relative term anyway. To someone like Kobra, anyone who had sufficient disposable income to eat regularly could be categorised as wealthy. This woman however had the means to track and capture him and clearly believed that she could do the same with all of them. She had more than wealth, she had power. 

There was one thing that confused him, however, and that was how she could possibly place them in a museum without drawing attention from the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit? Was it even possible that she had negotiated a deal with them? The manager of the unit, Katsumi Miharu, was ruthless in her quest for whatever would serve BLI for the best. Whilst not cold-blooded in the same way as the Exterminators were, she was more than capable of finding ways to achieve her aims. One of those aims was to neutralise the Killjoys. Could she possibly have lost faith in her team of Exterminators? It seemed unlikely, but Kobra couldn’t rule out the possibility. But if this exhibition were to be opened to the public in any capacity, surely it wouldn’t be long until Korse discovered it? He would want to take or kill them. Would he be overruled by her? Would the woman allow her exhibition to be closed? Who would win that particular battle? 

Stepping back from the transparent wall, Kobra frowned at the choice he had considered. Was it better to remain at the museum or to hope that Korse found them? Neither seemed an improvement on the other. The comparative luxury of the private living space with its hot and cold running water did appeal to him more than whichever of the four acceptable levels of death that BLI chose to inflict. But it was still a prison and intolerable on any level. 

Finally, the voices faded and the room once more fell into silence. He had vaguely considered shouting for help, but something had stopped him. It seemed likely that whoever was outside would either be indifferent to his situation or worse, they would enjoy it.

Kobra’s head snapped up and he was pulled from his reverie as the double doors flew open with a sudden burst. A tall, muscular man stepped into the room dressed smartly in a dark suit with his hair slicked back so flat and with so much product, it was actually difficult to see what colour it was. Initially beside him the woman who had brought him here walked at a slower pace so that she was only half way across the room by the time the man reached the cells. 

Almost unaware of these details, Kobra’s eyes were wide and fixed on the body draped over the man’s left shoulder. As he approached, he could only see the legs and occasionally a hand as it swung outwards as the man strode purposefully into the room. It felt to Kobra as if his heart had sunk to the pit of his stomach before bouncing back to lodge in his throat. He couldn’t speak as he tried desperately to convince himself that he hadn’t recognised the unconscious man. At least – he hoped he was just unconscious.

Stepping up to the Perspex once more and pressing his palms against it in disbelief, his fears were realised when the man swiped a key card in a slot and opened the door to the adjoining cell emblazoned in green with the words Fun Ghoul. He took a deep breath as he watched the man swing the unconscious form of his friend from his shoulder and deposit him without care onto the floor of the cell. Turning without even acknowledging the alarm in the eyes of the other prisoner, the man turned and locked the cell door, silently handing the key card to the woman. 

“Thank you,” she smiled as the took the card and, opening a small folder, placed it inside.  
“Hey!” Kobra yelled, only now, after checking for a rise and fall of his abdomen, did he notice the painful looking welts and raw red marks around Ghoul’s wrists and neck. “What the fuck did you do to him?”  
“Anything I can do for you, ma’am?” the man asked politely, ignoring Kobra’s shout.  
“No, thank you, everything seems in order.”

Kobra slammed both palms on the Perspex, infuriated at being treated as if he wasn’t there. 

“Very well, I’ll return to the convention room. I’ll make sure your guests are catered for.”  
“Hey, bitch!” Kobra screamed. “What did you do to him?”  
“Would you like me to restrain him, ma’am?” the man asked, once more only acknowledging him indirectly.  
“No,” Evelyn laughed lightly, as she raised a small remote device. “I think I can handle him.”  
“Of course,” he laughed unpleasantly.  
“But wait a moment, I’ll come with you,” she replied. “I mustn’t neglect my guests.”  
“What do you…”

Kobra couldn’t finish his sentence. He couldn’t even concentrate on the words he had intended to say. At the press of a button on the small remote Evelyn watched dispassionately as Kobra slid down the Perspex to his knees. Leaning forward he gasped for breath clutching the back of his neck. 

The pain emanated from somewhere near where his neck met the base of his skull. A sensation of excruciating, stabbing pain bouncing up and down his spine. It was as if he was a pinball machine, with the pain crashing from one buffer to another before being flipped back up to the top to begin all over again. If there was any noise over and above the laughter from both the man and the woman, then he was unaware. At the turn of a small dial, the pain swamped him as it began to spread beyond his spine into his arms, legs and chest. Snatching at breaths now, he fell to the floor, unable to support himself any longer. Writhing in agony, he heard screaming, gasping as he realised it was his own voice. He no longer seemed attached to his own body, but it seemed that something was preventing him from passing out. He didn’t know if it was his own strength or something she was doing but all he knew now was unparalleled agony and exhaustion as he was overcome by wave after wave of stinging, gripping and almost burning sensations as each of his nerves felt as though they were unravelling inside his body, frayed and sparking like a live electric cable flailing and uncontrolled.

“Please,” he whispered, managing to force the single word out through his tightly clenched jaw. 

Evelyn pressed a switch on the remote and watched coldly as Kobra sank to the floor, gasping, unaware of the tears of agony and relief slipping involuntarily down his cheeks. 

“Don’t cross me, Kobra,” she walked to the cell and spoke calmly, slipping the remote into her purse. “You have no sway with me and I have no problem keeping you in line any way I see fit. I doubt you’ll be able to, but don’t forget the governor I’ve had implanted in your neck. I can inflict any amount of pain from annoying ache to fatal. Remember that next time you go to cross me.”

Not even caring whether he had understood or even heard her, she turned and followed Sorby out of the room and headed back to her guests.

*

Seated at one of the booths, Party, Jet, Red, Pony and Death were sharing what little they could pull together for a meagre breakfast. Party’s head was sunk, cradled deep in his right palm, his elbow propped on the table as he listened to Jet explain the events of the previous night and how Red had come to accompany him back to the diner.

“Let me see if I’ve got this right?” Party sighed. “You see an explosion, then you find Kobra’s missing and this girl…”  
“Woman.”

Party turned indifferent eyes towards Red.

“This girl camped out in the car waiting for you?”  
“I was not waiting!” Red cried indignantly.  
“What then?” Party asked in a slightly accusatory tone.  
“Sleeping!” she snapped back.  
“Huh! Then deciding you can’t trust her, you brought her back here and then gave her a gun? Did you miss out the part where you lost your fucking mind, Jet?” Party’s voice grew in intensity until by the end he was yelling.  
“If it wasn’t for Red, we all might have been dead right about now!” Jet snapped in response. “I couldn’t have taken all of them.”  
“You didn’t!” Party pointed over to the counter to where the man he had shot had lain earlier.

Jet glowered, angry and frustrated yet more than a little surprised that he was actually defending her. In many respects, Party was absolutely right, but somehow he knew that he trusted her and that was right too.

At that moment the radio crackled to life and Jet rose, still glaring at Party.

“Probably Ghoul,” he muttered.  
“Jet!” the voice cried over the radio, the voice sounded panicked.  
“Candi?” Jet answered quickly, concerned by the tone of her voice. “Where are you? What’s wrong?”  
“Signal Station, I needed a long range. Jet, Ghoul’s been taken!”  
“What!” Jet’s eyes widened in horror. “What happened? When?”  
“He came to pick up the meds and we were crashed by a squad of Crows. I don’t know how but they knew he was here! They’ve taken him to Bat City. Jet, they’ve got him! BLI have got him!”  
“W-wait,” Jet shook his head in confusion. “They only took Ghoul? Not you?”  
“Well, they would have had he got here! They picked him off the street. They knew he was here.”  
“But you said ‘we’ – ‘we were crashed’,” Jet frowned, unhappy with the explanation.  
“I didn’t mean it that literally!” she replied with an exasperated tone. “Look, someone tipped them off, they must have. Someone must have known!”  
“Any idea where?” Jet asked, desperate for any information.  
“BLI Headquarters probably,” Candi suggested. “They didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address. Look, I’ll find out everything I can and get back to you.”  
“Thanks, we’ll do the same.” Jet signed off before slamming a fist down on the counter. “How did they know?”  
“Why don’t you ask your new friend, Jet?” Party snapped glaring at Red, his expression demanding answers. “I don’t believe in coincidence but I do believe in BLI Spies!”  
“I’m no spy!” she yelled with a mixture of surprise and outrage. 

Jumping to her feet, Red gasped in shock as Party snatched at her wrist and, despite his ill health, held her firmly, even painfully.

“Where’s Ghoul?” he growled.


	9. Enter Exterminator Korse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unexpected arrival of BLI's Chief Exterminator causes concern a the museum

Fun Ghoul was seated on the floor of the viewing area of his cell. One leg was folded across himself, the other drawn up to his chest. He rested his hands across his knee and finally his chin on his hands. He had positioned himself next to the wall adjoining Kobra’s cell and his eyes had barely moved from the older man since he had settled. Ghoul drew in a deep breath as he heard a faint moan and a twitch in the next cell. He watched, silently, as Kobra returned slowly to consciousness. At first it was small movements, his fingers flexing against the floor, a slight roll of the head, a twitch of a leg. His movements were joined by a long deep groan of discomfort and Ghoul saw him squeeze his eyes together briefly. Believing him to be sufficiently recovered now, Ghoul spoke:

“Hey Kobra,” he said gently. “How are you feeling?”

In other circumstances, it might have been almost comic to watch Kobra’s apparent lack of coordination and coherence. Unable as yet to lift his head more than a few inches, he tilted it back and allowed his lips to part as he focussed his blurry eyes on the source of the sound. As yet, that’s all Ghoul’s voice had been – a sound. A quiet, non-threatening sound, but not yet words.

It was the colour of his shirt that first filtered through his fogged mind. Even though the lines were fuzzy, he recognised the colour, words and pattern of Ghoul’s favourite mustard coloured shirt.

Opening his mouth to speak, the words caught in Kobra’s parched mouth and his head dropped forward again with an exhausted sigh.

“Kobra?” 

Ghoul had shifted position so that he too was now lying face down on the floor so he could be at eye level with his friend. 

“Come on, Kid,” he chuckled. “You don’t have to move far to be at eye level with me,” he coaxed.  
“G-Ghoul?” Kobra stammered, pushing himself upwards almost until his elbows almost locked before immediately collapsing back down again with a huff of pain and disorientation.  
“Kobra!” Ghoul’s eyes widened. “Sorry, man, are you okay?”

Rolling onto his side and drawing in a deep breath as his eyes – now able to focus – rested on his friend, now sitting up, cross-legged on the other side of the Perspex.

“I’ve been better,” he finally managed, pointing a finger in the vague directions of Ghoul’s neck and wrists. “What about you? What did she do to you? That looks painful?”  
Ghoul cocked his head and offered a bitter laugh. “I think she likes me.”  
“Fuck!” Kobra’s eyes widened. “She hates me! If she’s prepared to do that if she likes you…” 

Kobra left the sentence hanging and shook his head lightly. He wanted to ask so many questions, but where to begin? It was Ghoul who spoke first, although it wasn’t an easy thing to do.

“I…,” Ghoul sighed. “I know who did this.”  
“Yeah,” Kobra nodded to his surprise. “Some weird art-collector woman. We’re fucking exhibits in her museum!”

Ghoul frowned, yes Kobra was right and that was bad enough, but he had missed the point.

“No, I mean, who gave us up to her.”  
“Who?” Kobra’s brow creased. He had considered the idea when he had first been captured, but had been unable to even imagine who it could be.  
“Candi and Ice,” he replied, his tone flat with a combination of anger tinged with disbelief despite having seen it with his own eyes.

Kobra shook his head and laughed, but soon found his laughter dwindling as Ghoul’s face took on an expression that was cold and hardened with anger.

“I went down into the basement to see Ice and this guy just steps out of nowhere, grabs me and…”  
“No, he was forced to help,” Kobra interrupted, unable believe his ears. “He must have been.”

Ghoul’s face grew ever more angry and intense.

“He was fucking laughing at me, Kobra!” Ghoul snapped as the memory came back to him. “The guy had me pinned, I couldn’t reach my gun and he shoved a cloth over my nose and mouth! I tried not to breathe but I had to! And the last thing I saw was Ice laughing in my face as I went down! I’m telling you, Kobra, when we get out of here, I’m gonna kill him. Him and Candi.”

Kobra merely stared blankly in return, stunned into silence by the news.

“They got you too, you know!” Ghoul pressed. “They don’t know, but I was still conscious when I hit the floor. Too damn weak to move, but conscious,” he sighed despondently.  
“What… what do they want?” Kobra asked nervously.  
“Money,” Ghoul’s nose crinkled with distaste. “They double their reward with each one of us they get. He called it an incentive not to stop.”  
“I…” Kobra bit his lip. “I knew just from the exhibit that she wanted all of us. It never occurred to me that she actually had a way of doing it. Ice and Candi?” Kobra shook his head. “Party’ll never suspect them! He… he helped them when they got out of Battery City. If it hadn’t been for him they’d be dead! I can’t believe this!” Kobra yelled suddenly, pushing himself to his feet, before steadying himself, placing a palm on the Perspex. 

Ghoul rose slowly, nodding at Kobra’s distress. It was all true. Years earlier, Party had saved their lives and helped them get started and make connections in Dust Bowl. They had begun trade with the Killjoys shortly after, setting up a supply chain that kept both sides happy – or at least as happy as anyone could be out in the harsh, barren desert.

“I know,” Ghoul nodded slowly. “They betrayed us. I can’t explain it… well I know why. Money! I just don’t understand. But you’re right about Party,” Ghoul shook his head. “Even I find it hard to believe and I know!”

Kobra ran a hand over his mouth, in a thoughtful yet nervous way. Pulling at his lower lip with his teeth, he came to the one conclusion that neither of the wanted to face.

“She’s going to get all of us, isn’t she?” 

Kobra and Ghoul stared bleakly at each other.

“I… She… I hope not.” Ghoul waved a hand in the air as he struggled to find the right words to say – at least something he could make sound convincing. “We have to believe we’ll get out of this.” He shrugged helplessly. “We have to.”  
“Ghoul,” Kobra licked his dry lips. “She’s put what she calls a governor in the back of my neck somehow. It’s remote controlled and it causes a lot of pain,” his face creased unhappily with the memory of it, “she says she can kill me with it if she needs to.”

Ghoul’s face fell at the horror of the situation. 

“If we escape, she’ll probably use it,” Kobra bit his lower lip distractedly. “If she does and I can’t run, you have to get away from me and get out.”  
“I can’t do that! Just leave you? No!”  
“Ghoul, if you have a chance to escape without me, you have to take it anyway… for all our sakes.”

The pair stared at each other bleakly. The situation was unimaginable and the lack of control was killing them. 

“We’ll get out of here, Kid. I promised myself I’d kill Ice and I intend on keeping that promise,” Ghoul finally managed a defiant edge to his tone.  
“Then I’ll be there right alongside you,” Kobra nodded.

Almost as an afterthought, he realised he hadn’t even flinched when Ghoul called him Kid. Ah, the bitter irony of growing up a day too late.

*

Evelyn Hart scowled deeply the moment she entered the convention room. There was a disconcerted hush amongst her guests and several nervous glances shared as the crowd separated to allow four men to cross the floor. 

The lead man strode confidently, almost arrogant in his gait, his long grey coat flapping and creating its own breeze as he walked briskly. His serious, angry expression contrasted markedly with the flamboyance of his clothes. Whilst not dressed in colour, the flowing coat, open-necked frilled shirt and elaborately patterned waistcoat gave the impression of a man not as devoid of emotion as BLI would prefer. But, to enable him to retain anger and hate, there was always a risk.

The remaining three men were draculoids.

“I want to know who allowed an Exterminator in here!” Evelyn fumed, turning to Sorby, her aide. “Once he’s gone, find out and dismiss them, but please stay for now.”  
“I wish to speak to the owner of this establishment,” Exterminator Korse bellowed in a deep, gravelly and angry tone.

Evelyn stepped forward, her aide immediately to her right and stared unflinching and unafraid at the BLI exterminator.

“How dare you barge in here and disrupt my gathering!” she snapped in a stern yet surprisingly calm voice.  
“And you are?” he stared coldly, stopping only a few feet from where she stood, now near the centre of the room.  
“Evelyn Hart, I own this museum and convention centre, as Better Living Industries are well aware!” she replied haughtily.  
“I have reason to…” he began only to be cut off mid-sentence.  
“Do you think I intend to discuss anything with you here, in front of all my guests? Can you not see that you have interrupted my party and disturbed my friends?” 

Korse had no intention of backing down; he was there on business and fully intended to get what he wanted, but he was not without knowledge of the protocols of the wealthy of Battery City and was more than aware that their many high-powered contacts could make life difficult for him and the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit, if they so wished. Offering a slight smirk, he gave a light bow and swept his arm to the side.

“Perhaps we could continue this in your office?”  
“Or,” Evelyn knew she was taking a chance – given what, or rather who, resided in her new exhibit, she was certainly running a risk. “You could leave now and return with an appointment.”

Straightening up once more, Korse reached into his pocket and withdrew a slip of paper and handed it to her coolly. Taking the folded sheet, trying hard and barely managing to hold the shake in her hand, she opened and read it. Taking a deep breath, as she saw the signature on the document – Judge Melling – the only one of Battery City’s High Court Judges not on the take.

“A warrant?” her eyes blazed, looking up once more. “And just what are you hoping to find? This is a museum!”  
“Are you refusing access, Ms Hart?”  
“No, I’m not,” she replied angrily. “If you break anything, I will…”  
“I won’t,” he smiled – it was a sinister smile that accompanied a cold stare. “I’m not looking for art.”  
“What are you looking for?” she asked once more in a frustrated tone.  
“I will want to speak to your guests also.”  
“Absolutely not!” She slapped the warrant. “Search it says. You have no other business here!”

Taking another deep breath, she turned toward Sorby and rested her hand on his arm.

“Miles, please take my guests to the ballroom for refreshments and make sure no one is distressed.”  
“Of course, ma’am.” He nodded. “Shall I attend to the art critics also?”

Evelyn smiled graciously and nodded.

“Please,” she gave his arm a small grateful squeeze. “I want everyone to be comfortable and out of the way of these… gentlemen.”  
“Of course, ma’am. Consider it done.”

Turning back, she offered a dark frown. 

“Exterminator Korse,” she began in a clipped voice, “where would you like to start?”  
“I’ll find my own way,” he replied with a slight bob of his head before turning on his heels, again walking purposefully in the direction of the museum entrance.

Sorby moved away, indicating to the unnerved guests that they should follow him. Once everyone had been ushered into the adjacent ballroom, Sorby closed the doors, offering a brief nod to Evelyn. Once inside, he consulted his watch and swiping up to access another screen on the display, he entered a short sequence of numbers. Two floors down, a false wall slid into place completely covering the entrance to the Killjoy exhibit.

*

“What was that noise?” Kobra frowned picking up the faint sound of the hydraulics operating the dummy wall.  
“Never mind that, what’s that smell?” Ghoul replied, alarmed at the sudden sweet smell in the air.

Standing to try to establish the source, Ghoul’s eyes widened as he staggered unexpectedly. His head felt cloudy, thoughts were thickening, his eyes rolling back before closing. His breathing became uneven and he was aware of feeling light-headed and dizzy. Briefly opening his eyes, he saw a flash of colour moving quickly and heard rather than saw Kobra crash to the floor. Dropping to one knee in an attempt to avoid the same fate, Ghoul lost consciousness and landed sprawling, his right arm stretched out trying to break his fall. 

Both art critics attended to.


	10. Make Some Noise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party gets off on the wrong foot with Red - literally

Pulling back her left arm, furious that Party still gripped her right wrist tightly with no apparent intention of letting go, Red swung a clenched fist connecting sharply with Party's jaw. His head jarred sharply to the left and his eyes popped with surprise as the pain exploded up into his cheek. The shock of the unexpected punch forced his grip to weaken and she pulled free with a deep angry frown etched on her face.

"The fuck!" He screamed leaping up and, pushing himself from the booth, reached for her once more.  
"Don't even think about it!" Red yelled, backing up a couple of paces.  
"Party," Jet sighed. "Leave her alone."  
'Fuck that!"

He advanced on her once more, his temper flaming as red as his hair. Grabbing for her arm once more, he lunged forward, only to have his hand batted away as she raised her arm defensively. With a quick turn, and once more with a left hook, Red landed a blow to his abdomen. Following through with an upward motion, she knocked much of the air from his lungs.

"Red, calm down!" Jet yelled, trying desperately to keep the peace while Pony and Death Defying looked on with amusement. "Party! Stop it! We have to find Ghoul!" he added as the incensed Killjoy, raised his head, his expression one of blind rage.

With a deep groan, Jet pushed himself out of the booth to break up the fight. Party was beyond listening.

“This is going to be priceless,” Pony rolled his head in Death Defying's direction and grinned. 

Looking back, the older man nodded.

"He's far too weak. Party's gonna have his ass handed to him by a little girl."  
"I am not a little girl!" Red screamed furiously. 

But the rest was true. Raising a sharply aimed boot, Red connected and Party dropped like a stone clutching himself. All blood drained from his face and he looked on the verge of passing out. Falling forward he retched violently, bile collecting in his throat, the acid burning him. He sank down onto his elbows as the pain went deeper causing a dragging sensation in his abdomen, which continued to radiate up and out until it permeated his entire body. Sagging limply, he slipped onto his side, gasping and moaning as he struggled to breathe. 

Staring down with her hands on her hips, she began to calm, now feeling slightly guilty at the pain she had caused the still weak and ailing man. But only slightly. She noted the reaction from the other men in the room. Up until the point of her accurately placed kick, both Pony and Death Defying had been amused and Jet simply frustrated. Now, a wave of empathic calm had settled over all three men as each of them seemed to feel some aspect of his discomfort.

Looking up, she turned her gaze toward Jet, expecting a tongue lashing at the devastating effect of her actions on his friend. Surprisingly, he offered a small sympathetic smile that seemed to ask after her emotional and physical state. Taking a calming breath, she nodded almost imperceptibly and offered a faint smile of thanks for his efforts in trying to calm Party’s misplaced temper. 

Now on his knees and supporting himself with one hand on the floor, he kept his hand cupped protectively as he slowly regained his composure and finally, a few minutes later, his breathing began to slow, returning almost to normal. He remained pale, however. Jet wasn’t sure how much of that was a result of the attack to his most delicate of areas and how much was due to the illness from which he was still recovering. Offering a hand to Party, Jet smiled as he took it without comment, allowing his friend to help him to his feet. Gingerly, he rose and turned what he wanted to be a frown towards Red, but it appeared as a queasy stare.

“You’d be handy in a fight,” he finally said grudgingly.  
“Well,” she accepted it was probably the closest she’d get to an apology, “looks like you might need protecting right now.”

Party laughed reluctantly, shaking his head. 

“Did you go to the same charm school as Jet?” he asked, his breathing settling fully, but still not quite upright.  
“Want a hand?” she asked stepping closer growing increasingly apologetic as he seemed to warm towards her.

Waving her over, Party draped his arm across her shoulders and nodded.

“You’re more of a crutch really,” he teased.

Red took a very deep breath, releasing it slowly without response as Jet shot a warning glance at her.

“So, you’re from Dust Bowl?” Party asked as he edged, with Red’s assistance, back to the booth.  
“Today,” she shrugged. “I’m from wherever I am that day.”  
“So, you don’t know anyone there?”  
“You still don’t trust me, do you?” she asked with a frown.  
“I can count on two hands exactly how many people I can trust with fingers to spare. If I trusted everyone I just met, I wouldn’t still be alive.”

Red nodded; she could appreciate that.

“Just don’t give me reason to doubt you,” he stared into her eyes, searching for signs of deception.  
“Sure, but don’t you give me reason to geld you and we’ll get along just fine.”

Party offered a half smile, half smirk; he was getting an indication of how Jet had grown to trust her.

"Well" Jet chuckled, "you've got to admit, Party, she's got balls."  
"That's more than he's got now," Pony laughed openly, earning an attempt at a glare from Party, which dissolved into a resigned laugh. It was time to give in.

Besides, there was something much more pressing to deal with. Where was Ghoul? Who had him and possibly Kobra and how would they secure their safe return?

The radio crackled to life once more. Jet immediately swung around to answer, noticing that the emergency channel had been activated, he switched on the scrambler before pressing down on the receiver’s trigger.

“Go for Jet.”  
“Jet,” Candi’s voice came over the radio. “I think we’ve found them!”  
“Them?” Jet’s voice rose in elation. “Kobra too?”  
“Yes! Both of them!” Candi sounded excited. “Can you and Party meet Ice and me at the bakery? We have a plan.”  
“That’s great! Where are they, though?” Jet pressed.  
“I can…” 

Static.

“When you…”

Static.

“… sure…”

Static.

“Candi, you’re breaking up!” Jet cried in frustration.

“… at the bakery…”

Static.

“… sooner the better.”

Static. Just static.

“Party?” Jet looked at his friend – he appeared tired but trying to hide it.  
“Let’s go,” he nodded.

Red got to her feet and Party chewed on his lower lip as he considered their options.

“It sounds like you need all the help you can get,” she explained. “Besides, I don’t know Kobra, but Ghoul was nice to me. I want to help.”

Jet turned his eyes toward Party, willing him to agree.

He nodded. “Come on, let’s make some noise.”

 

*

 

Korse swept from room to room, his ire growing as each one drew a blank. The information he had received was sound, he knew it but proving it was apparently going to be difficult.

“Sir,” one of the draculoids approached from another room in the museum. “We’ve searched everywhere, we can find no evidence.”  
“Look again!” he snapped, furious.

He had pushed hard to get the warrant, Judge Melling had been reluctant and had been unwilling to risk upsetting one of Battery City’s wealthiest citizens. Concerned particularly because of his awareness of her network of high-ranking contacts; he valued his job and indeed, his life. Korse could simply not afford to return to the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit’s manager and tell her that he had come up empty handed.

Looking around carefully at the consistently white walls surrounding him. There was something – something he was missing. He knew it. He felt it, like a knot in his stomach, a real tension. Despite her attempts to hide it, he knew she was nervous. She was hiding something certainly, but she was hiding it well.

The most he’d been able to ascertain from his contact that something was in the building that would lead him directly to the Killjoys. An exhibit of some sort. There was nothing immediately obvious, pre-war and historical artefacts filled each room of the sterile space but nothing post-war. What could possibly be here that would lead him to the rebels? There didn’t seem to be a single exhibit in the entire building that could even have been created during the lifetime of the Killjoys. How would any of the items on display lead him anywhere? Staring at the blank wall ahead of him, he knew there was little he could do to conjure up the evidence he needed. He would have to discuss it further with his contact, and this time, he would give him all the information. He would worry about the warrant later.

“Exterminator Korse,” Evelyn entered the room, swallowing her nerves as he stared at the dummy wall covering the Killjoy exhibit entrance. “I have been most accommodating but I want to know when you and your… men will be leaving.”

Korse turned, eyeing her carefully. He knew, yes, he knew all right. 

“I’ll give you one last opportunity,” he spoke coldly, hoping to scare her, to trigger something to give him cause to arrest and interrogate her.  
“I don’t even know what you’re looking for,” she replied smoothly. “How can I answer your challenge if I don’t know what you want?”  
“Is that so?” he asked, his tone clipped in frustration.  
“Yes,” she replied haughtily. “That’s so.”  
“Very well,” he scowled angrily. “I will be back and I will find what I’m looking for.”  
“I very much doubt that,” she replied sternly. “Now, I would like you to leave.”

Korse contemplated her words. He believed they had been chosen carefully. Something in this museum was going to lead him to the Killjoys and he was determined to find it. He could not even have guessed that beyond the wall only a few feet behind him, two of his prey lay unconscious in their cells.


	11. Clearing The Air (a.k.a. I'm sorry I kicked you in the balls)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party, Jet and Red head off to Dust Bowl and Ghoul and Kobra receive some devastating news

“Yes, yes!” Doctor Death Defying waved. “Take the van. Usual terms apply!”

Jet grinned, they would do anything for the doctor, but he was always there for them too. It was very much a symbiotic relationship, and they all admired and had a great deal of loyalty and respect for him. But more than that, he was their friend and they counted themselves lucky.

“We’ll bring it back in one piece, don’t worry,” Jet chuckled.  
“Yourselves too,” Death Defying replied. “Don’t trust anyone.”

He wouldn’t normally be so direct. It was enough usually to leave the words unsaid – if the van was returned safe, then the implication was that they too would be safe. But there was uncertainty in the air. Both Kobra and Ghoul had been captured. Both men careful, experienced and more than able to handle themselves. Someone had got the better of them and it seemed unlikely that they had both been careless. To the doctor, this spoke volumes. It spoke of carefully laid traps, very probably situations that were not suspicious to them and most disturbing of all the possibility that someone may seem trustworthy or even go unnoticed in a crowd but may be watching them.

Unfortunately, the true situation that they were being lured into traps by two of their oldest and most trusted friends did not even register as a possibility.

As the three headed out, Jet frowned with concern as Party walked slowly and not exactly stooped but certainly not his confident upright self. Jet considered the possibility of asking Party if he was truly able to make the journey but his mind was battling against asking the question. Party didn’t accept illness well and it was his determination to keep going that had caused this particular virus to take such a dangerous hold on him in the first place. There were arguments for both possible outcomes.

“What’s on your mind, Jet?” Party finally asked, surprising the other man with the directness of his question.  
“What?” Jet asked dumbfounded.  
“You were staring,” Party explained.

Jet snapped to, realising that he had in fact been staring as he considered whether or not to speak. It seemed though, from the tone of the question and brief explanation that Party knew exactly what was on his mind.

“Oh, Party, sorry, I…” Jet didn’t quite know where to go with his reply.  
“It’s okay, man, I know you’re worried.” Party offered a faint smile. “I’m still strong enough to fire a gun, and I need those meds. If Ghoul didn’t get there, then Candi still has them.”

Jet nodded, it made sense. Party would only get worse without them and they were only a few hours away.

“Red and I will drive,” Jet announced before looking at Red. “You can drive, can’t you?”  
“I guess you’ll find out later, won’t you?” she smirked back, earning a laugh from Jet.  
Heading out into the mid-morning sun that was already above 85 degrees, the trio headed toward the van, Party climbing into the back, though the side door.

“Drop me at four and seventeen and then you two go find the car,” Party instructed.  
“Four and seventeen!” Jet gasped as he slid behind the wheel. “That’s…” he began only to be interrupted.  
“Jet!” Party barked. “I don’t think we need to announce where Candi lives, do you?”  
“Not with a BLI spy in the van,” Red grumbled as she pulled the door closed behind her.  
“Is that an admission?” Party scowled.  
“Listen ginger snap, your attitude’s getting old,” Red frowned deeply, looking over her shoulder. “I don’t even have the words to say how much I hate BLI. I don’t think the words even exist! BLI killed my entire family when I was four. They drafted me in to do their marketing videos – a pretty innocent blonde, blue-eyed child to tell the world how fucking amazing they are.” 

Red took a deep breath as her thoughts drifted back to her previous existence. Her voice cracked slightly as it rose in pitch and volume as she continued. 

“They didn’t even bother to try to erase my memories because I was four and they thought I’d forget, but I didn’t and I never will as long as I live! It took me years to escape. I don’t doubt that you’ve got some sad story too, but at least you’ve still got your brother, so back off, okay!”

Jet turned, first to look at Red, then Party. Her outburst had been heartfelt and emotional, he found it hard to believe it wasn’t real. Besides, since when were even BLI spies capable of that level of emotion?

Party lowered his eyes, then his head and exhaled. Taking a few deep breaths as the van hung in silence, he finally looked up. Red had turned away to stare out of the passenger side window. Jet was still staring; he looked sad. One final deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke quietly. “I guess I’m used to being suspicious and I’m worried…”  
“And you’re ill,” Jet added.

Party lowered his head and sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, with genuine regret lacing his words. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick.”  
“I’m sorry I kicked you in the balls,” Red offered in a conciliatory tone.  
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that too,” he replied with a small laugh. “Let’s go.”

*

Kobra awoke to the smell of food. Real food. He had forgotten what food smelled like but as the aroma drifted toward him it practically pulled him from unconsciousness. Opening his eyes, the memory of the gas pumped into the cell filled his memory and he expected to be in a great deal of pain and discomfort. It was a few moments before he realised that instead of the viewing area floor, he was waking in the bed in the private area at the back of the cell. As he looked to his left, he was surprised to see the broken table had been replaced and the splinted wood cleared away. On top of the table lay a steaming plate of something that was making his mouth water so much he was in danger of dehydrating the rest of his body.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he got to his feet and looked at the plate. It looked like a large portion of chicken with gravy, potatoes and vegetables. Suddenly he couldn’t focus on it, and it was seconds before he realised that his eyes had misted. His stomach growled and churned, begging him to eat but there was another pull – he hated his situation. If he ate, was he giving in? Was he accepting his fate? More than that, was it drugged? Was he going to lose anything of himself? Oh, but he wanted it so badly. He longed to eat with every fibre of his hunger-ravaged body. He hadn’t eaten anything that wasn’t dog food in such a long time. The moistened kibble was disgusting and only marginally better than the recycled rainwater they had started drinking but it kept him alive. It was such a horrible feeling to want something so much but to be afraid of giving in to it. Without even realising it, he had picked up the fork that lay next to it.

“Eat, Kobra,” a voice called from the next cell.  
“Ghoul?” He shouted back. “You’re awake?”  
“No,” his friend called back. “This is a recording.”

Ghoul heard Kobra chuckle lightly, it was a daft question.

“Out front,” Ghoul shouted.

Picking up the plate, Kobra walked into the viewing area to see Ghoul sitting on the floor cross-legged and half way through a bowl of pasta.

“Oh, pasta,” Kobra commented as he took his place on the floor near Ghoul.  
“I’d give you some, but…” Ghoul tapped on the wall with his fork.  
“No, you wouldn’t,” Kobra grinned.  
Ghoul shrugged, offering a wide smile in reply. “No, you’re right, I wouldn’t. What have you got?”  
Kobra lowered his plate. “Chicken,” he smiled.  
“Well,” Ghoul shrugged, loading up his fork. “As prisons go, it could be worse.”  
“I’m glad to hear your settling in,” a female voice reached them from the door.

Ghoul closed his eyes and allowed his head to tip to the side as he exhaled heavily. For the briefest of moments, he had relaxed for the first time since arriving. Just sitting with Kobra and having something to eat, apart from the cells it had felt like it could have been years ago. So long ago before the Helium Wars; when the world was still alive but didn’t know it.

“Why can’t you just leave us alone?” he finally asked. “You hurt us, drug us and lock us up. The very least you could do is stay the hell away from us,” he yelled, dropping the bowl the short distance to the floor and pushing himself to his feet.

Evelyn walked slowly and gracefully into the room almost appearing to glide. Keeping her eyes fixed on Ghoul as she approached, she watched as he walked to the Perspex door. Glancing up, Kobra was eating and, as curious he was as to what was going to happen, he hadn’t stopped. It was as if the pull of his body’s needs had taken over and nothing was going to stop him, short of an attack.

“Do you like the food?” she asked, ignoring his anger.  
“What do you want from us?” Ghoul asked bitterly.  
“All of you? This,” she waved her arms to indicate the room. “You’re exhibits, nothing more.”  
“And me?” Ghoul took a deep breath as he considered her behaviour towards him in the car.  
“I think I made myself quite clear on that front,” she replied, her voice, considering the topic, strangely cold.  
“What would you be prepared to do in return?” he asked carefully.

Kobra narrowed his eyes as he looked up at his friend; what was he doing?

Evelyn smiled her amusement in response; was he trying to negotiate? Did he not realise he had nothing to bargain with?

“Why would you assume I’d be prepared to offer you anything?” she asked with a light laugh.  
“Look, BLI…” he began. “The Crows are after us. They’re not going to let you keep us. The moment we go on display, they’ll be here shutting you down and taking us to have our memories erased. You won’t have anything.”  
“What is your bargain?” she asked with curiosity.  
“Let Kobra go. I’ll stay,” he took another deep breath as he paused to gather himself, but Kobra was already on his feet protesting.  
“Ghoul, I’m not leaving you here with her!”

Ghoul turned a wretched expression towards Kobra. It spoke volumes; more than any words could. In that moment, Kobra knew what he and Jet meant to him, but most of all Party. The idea that to save the others from captivity, he would willingly give himself to this woman was such an extreme sacrifice that Kobra’s eyes misted.

“But what about…?” he began only to stop himself before he uttered his brother’s name.

Ghoul’s face seemed to crumple under the burden of realising that Kobra knew and appeared unimaginably sad at the effect he knew it would have on Party.

“This is all very sweet and touching,” Evelyn sighed. “But the truth is, Ghoul, you have no bargaining power. BLI know you’re here, it’s all sanctioned. They don’t care how you’re brought to heel, just as long as you are.”  
“Then what do you want?” Ghoul spat the words as if they had left a bitter taste in his mouth.  
“Ghoul, I will have you, believe me,” she smirked. “But that’s not why I came.”

Walking slowly over to a small display case, she ran her hand along the top. Within it lay one green and one red gun, with two remaining empty stands.

“I thought you’d like to know that in a few hours, there’ll be another gun in this case. A yellow one.”

Ghoul’s jaw dropped open as he and Kobra both rushed forward.

“No,” Kobra shook his head in alarm. “You don’t have Party. No way!”

A smile began to form on her face slowly. 

“I have been reliably informed that he is approaching Candi Crush’s apartment as we speak. It won’t be long before he’s in that cell right there,” she laughed, indicating the cell next to Ghoul’s. “And Jet won’t be far behind, I’m certain. I’m beginning to feel a little disappointed. I never expected it would be this easy to trap you all. Are you certain your reputation is deserved?”  
“No, please,” Ghoul begged. “I’ll do anything, just let him go… and Kobra and Jet. Please!”  
“You will anyway,” she smiled confidently as she turned to leave.  
“You’ll never get anything from me!” Ghoul screamed, slamming a fist onto the Perspex.

Her light laughter filtered back to them as she closed the doors behind her. Turning his back to the wall, Ghoul placed his palms over his face and shook his head.

“She’s gonna get us all, Kobra,” he lowered his hands and stared bleakly at his friend in the next cell. “We won’t get out of here.”  
“We will,” Kobra was snatching at his breaths now, trying to remain calm. “Remember, we said we would. We promised each other.”  
“How?”  
“I don’t know.”


	12. Party walks into a trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party is captured while Jet and Red find the trans am. Is it all over for the Fabulous Killjoys?

Party pressed the buzzer for the intercom and waited. Within a matter of moments the screen lit up, and Candi’s beaming smile greeted him.

“Come in babes,” she called with her smile receding to a frown of concern. “Aw, babe, you don’t look too good. Come straight up, we’ve got your meds. You’ll be yourself again in no time.” 

Party offered a brief smile of gratitude and pushed the door at the sound of the click as the door unlocked. Trudging slowly upstairs, Party sighed with the effort, glad to finally be within a few minutes of receiving the medication he so desperately needed. He hadn’t said anything to Jet on the way, but he had felt his lungs almost groaning under the effort of trying to breathe. He could sense them clogging with infection and the pain was causing him to suffer more than he was happy to divulge. 

It was little wonder that Red had floored him so easily. Realistically, he wondered how he had managed to fight back as much as he had. He knew that the illness was overtaking him fast and if he had to fight Red now, there was simply no way he could manage.

“Party,” Ice greeted him at the top of the stairs and ushered him into the living room. “Man, you look like hell!”  
“Thanks, Ice,” Party lifted one corner of his mouth. “Always there with the compliments.”  
“Sit down, before you fall down!” he instructed, but Party wasn’t arguing.

As Party moved toward the old but serviceable couch, he saw a small saucer on the table containing four small tablets of two different sizes and a cup of water. He licked his lips, only now realising how parched he was.

“Don’t get excited, babes,” Candi advised. “It’s not good water. Tastes pretty bitter.”  
“Can’t be worse than what I’m used to,” Party shrugged, immediately regretting it as the pain seeped out from his chest into his back.

Candi glanced at Ice, surprised at just how ill the young Killjoy looked. Ice merely raised an eyebrow in reply.

“Here,” Ice picked up the saucer and cup and handed them to the exhausted Party, now flopped deep into the semi-comfortable couch.  
“What are the others?” Party asked; he knew two had to be Ademen but not what the others were.  
“Pain killers, Party,” Candi replied. “You really do look like hell.”  
“I’m okay,” he insisted unconvincingly. “Don’t waste your pain killers. The Ademen should be enough.”  
“Take them, Party,” Ice admonished. “We have enough and you’re in pain, it’s pretty obvious.”

Party sagged as the couch continued to claim him. Stretching out a hand, he was surprised to see a slight shake in his wrist and he tried to tense to control the movement, but to no avail. Taking the tablets from the saucer, Party tipped all four into his mouth and drank them back with a large swig of water.

“There now,” Candi smiled. “You’ll feel better in no time.”  
“Where’s Jet?” Ice asked, taking a seat on the arm of the couch.  
“He’s getting the trans am,” Party explained tiredly as he rested his head back against the cushion.  
“And then he’s coming here?” Ice pressed.

Party looked up frowning; Ice seemed tense.

“You okay, Ice?”  
“Yeah, I just want to know about where Jet’s going to be before…”

Ice cut himself off mid-sentence earning a glare of anger from Candi. Party looked from one to the other. 

“Before what?” he turned a worried glance toward Ice who he now noticed had edged closer in the last few seconds.

There was a brief moment of tension before realisation hit. Reaching for his gun, Party struggled to pull it from the holster as the deepness of the couch prevented him from pulling his arm back fully. Ice leapt forward, reaching for Party’s hand but the Killjoy was ahead of him. Raising his arm, Party slammed the side of his fist into the other man’s face, catching his mouth and tip of his nose. Ice screamed as his lip split open, his teeth slicing clean through the skin. Blood spattered on his chin and clothes as he momentarily pulled back, clutching his mouth with a blood sodden hand.

“Fuck you, Party!” 

The words emerged pained and partly muffled by his unwillingness to move his split lip. Candi jumped backwards a few paces as Party rolled from the sofa, breathing hard in physical distress. He felt as if his lungs would burst from the effort, but worse than that, the room was moving in and out of focus.

Unable to coordinate his movements to push himself to his feet, Party fell backwards, staring up in confusion as he leaned back on his elbows.

“They weren’t pain killers, babes,” Candi chuckled as Ice landed a vicious kick to the dazed Killjoy’s side. 

Gasping with pain, Party collapsed fully onto his back, his head swimming, his arm raised defensively as Ice swung his leg once more, connecting with Party’s lower back, near his kidneys. The force of the brutal kick enough to flip him onto his stomach. Clawing uselessly at the floor, Party desperately tried to hold onto consciousness but he knew it was slipping away as fast as his freedom. 

“Enough!” came a man’s voice.  
“One more!” Ice demanded angrily.

Party’s eyes were already closed, his arms and legs too weak to move. He knew there was nothing he could do to prevent this. All he could do was pray to the Phoenix Witch that Jet wouldn’t fall into the same trap.

“We’re not paying you to deliver them damaged.”

They were the last words Party heard before slipping into a deep enforced sleep.

*

“You’re not happy, are you?” Red looked briefly over at Jet before returning her eyes to the road ahead.  
“Hmm?” Jet replied without looking up, as he triangulated the signal from the tracking device. “Are you talking on an existential level or about something specific?”  
“What are the chances I’m trying to have a philosophical debate with you?” she frowned unimpressed by his mischievous reply.

Jet chuckled softly and smiled broadly with satisfaction as a small red light flickered to life on the screen.

“Keep going straight ahead,” he instructed.  
“Are you serious?” Red asked causing Jet to look up and laugh as he saw the single track stretched out ahead towards the opposite end of town with no turns or side roads.

The town was called Dust Bowl for a reason. It had once been a large town, a long time ago but at some point in its history a direct hit with a cluster of EM Spike Mines had not only destroyed the middle of the town, but had left a large crater. Now, years later, the crater, which had been roughly half a mile in diameter, had largely been filled by the constantly shifting desert and a road built across to connect the two parts of the town. 

“Absolutely,” he turned to look at Red. “Very smooth driving by the way. This van is notoriously difficult to handle.”  
“Can’t be worse than the last wreck I drove,” Red shrugged.  
“What was it?” Jet raised a curious eyebrow.

Red laughed, partly with embarrassment and partly with pride in having found a car that she believed no one could top for shocking drives.

“A 1982 Iron Duke.” 

She beamed a knowing smile at him, watching as Jet practically dissolved with helpless laughter. It was infectious. Jet’s face creased with quivering lines as he shook, his mouth stretched to its limits, his eyes squeezed shut with tears of absolute joy forced out at the corners. Bent forward slightly, his shoulders rose and fell swiftly as he gasped for breath, his throat emitting high pitched noises in between snorts of laughter and deep throaty chuckles. 

The pair laughed, giggled and coughed, setting each other off with each other’s sounds and expressions. When one would start to calm, the briefest of glances was all it took to start up again. They were approaching the other side of the town and having to calm themselves. The occasional giggle or chuckle still permeated the otherwise stillness inside the cab of the van.

“Was it yours?” Jet asked quietly, trying not to set himself off again.  
“No,” Red grinned. “I actually stole it.”

The revelation served only to amuse him all the more – the idea that she had taken it by choice making the idea of driving such a dire vehicle even worse.

“Which way?” Red cut through his laughter as she heard the tracker beeping insistently.  
“Oh,” Jet looked at the device, pushing the tears from his eyes. “Left,” he managed to state the instruction before they missed their turn.

Composing himself, Jet looked at the tracker then up at the road ahead.

“I know where it is,” he nodded. “There’s an underground garage up the road about a mile. I reckon that’s where he’s parked it.”  
“So, what? We take both? Leave the van there and take the trans am?” Red asked.  
“We leave the van. The trans am is faster and more manoeuvrable. What was it you wanted to know before?” he asked.  
“I said, you’re not happy, are you? About leaving Party on his own.”  
“No,” Jet replied with a deep sigh. “I mean, I know he’s not really alone, he’s with Candi and Ice.”  
“At least he let you drop him at their place instead of where he wanted you to,” Red offered encouragement.  
“I hope you realise how much that means he’s come around to you?” Jet answered. “That’s huge for Party.”  
“He’s not big on trust,” Red replied – it was a statement not a question.  
“No,” Jet shook his head. “Right turn here,” he pointed to the next road.  
“But he trusts Candi?” Red asked as she turned the wheel of the van and headed down the ramp into the garage.  
“Yeah, we’ve known them years,” he turned a puzzled glance in Red’s direction. “Why?”  
“Well, I don’t know,” Red shrugged. “Maybe I’m just naturally suspicious too, but she just seems to be a common denominator.”  
“No,” Jet shook his head. “I see why you’d think that; Ghoul and Kobra were both heading to Candi’s, but neither of them got there. Ghoul was taken in the street and Kobra in the desert.”  
“So she says,” Red frowned.  
“You were in the car,” Jet pointed out, as Red parked the van alongside the trans am. “Kobra was definitely in the desert, and there was no mistaking the skid marks on the road.”  
“I suppose,” Red shrugged. “But she did know Kobra had been taken. Remember she mentioned it?”  
“No, she shot me down for suggesting that she’d fail to contact me about it if she already knew.”

Red switched off the engine as she mulled over the conversation in her mind, trying to remember the exact words. As she turned to look at Jet, her eyes widened as she noticed the fixed expression on his face. His eyes glazed, lips slightly parted and skin pale.

“Jet?” she ventured.  
“You’re right,” he murmured. “All I said was he’d been ambushed. She said he’d been taken. There’s only one way she could know!” 

Reaching for the radio clipped to his belt, Jet quickly set the frequency and pressed the device’s trigger.

“Party!” he yelled. “Party! Answer me!”

Receiving no response, Jet and Red were already climbing out of the van and heading to the trans am. Jet's eyes blazing with deep set anger at being betrayed by two people they had saved from certain death years earlier. Nothing was going to save them from him!


	13. Into the Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jet enters Candi and Ice's apartment - will he be captured too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi to anyone who saw that I'd posted a chapter of a different story in here by mistake last night - it was REALLY late!! LOL! Anyway, this is the chapter you should have seen :)

Leaving the trans am at the corner of the street, Jet walked slowly and carefully towards the bakery. He knew there was a possibility that Ice and Candi had heard his desperate transmission to try to reach and warn Party of the danger he was in and he was determined that he would not be caught in one of their traps.

In his favour was the fact that neither of them knew anything about Little Red and he knew the advantage that gave him. As he mulled over their plan of action, he would be lying if it didn’t at any point occur to him that if Red were some sort of spy, playing them, it would be all over for him very soon. But no sooner had the fact that the thought had fleetingly appeared in his mind than it was gone. He trusted her, literally with his life. There was something honest and open about her. He understood her and she him. Yes, they would make a good team, and they would save Party, Ghoul and Kobra.

Jet nodded to himself, apparently making a decision, but more to prepare himself.

“Well, are you ready, Red?” he asked the diminutive woman at his side.  
“Yeah,” she offered a determined smile. “How about you?”  
“I think I’m all right,” he returned with an expression that showed clearly how he felt – stern, focussed and angry. “Come on.”

Red kept a discreet distance from Jet, pretending she was not with him. Their lives could end up depending on the element of surprise and they were going to stay alive above all else. The best-case scenario was that Party would still be there, unhurt, worst-case was that he was dead. Realistically, the true situation was likely to be somewhere between the two. Jet's plan was simple; always simple. Find out where Party was then shoot both traitors. There was no room for mercy in this world. Mercy would get you killed.

Arriving at the apartment above the bakery, Jet pressed the intercom. Within a minute, Candi's cheerful face flashed up on the small screen.

"Jet!" She called with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. "Come right up, babes. Party's sleeping," she added with surprising honesty. "Took the meds and passed right out. He'll be better soon though."  
"Thanks, Candi that's great news," Jet replied forcing a convincing smile.

Hearing the click of the lock, Jet pushed open the door. Fishing a guitar pick from his pocket he placed it over the latch before closing the door as the intercom screen darkened. Waiting out of sight, Red nodded as he headed upstairs, quietly unfastening the retaining strap on his holster. Creeping forward silently, Red listened carefully pressing her ear against the door. Fewer than thirty seconds behind Jet she heard a second set of footsteps following quietly up the stairs. Once she knew they had passed, she allowed a few seconds for distance before silently opening the door, kept unlocked by the plastic covering the latch.

“Jet,” Candi greeted the Killjoy. “Come in, make yourself at home.”  
“Where’s Party?” he asked, a little angry with himself for possibly sounding a little tense, but it was really hard not to.  
“Oh, he was so tired,” Candi smiled. “We gave him our bed.”

The hair on the back of Jet’s neck prickled; Ice was standing behind him and he knew. Ice laughed.

“So, when did you work it out, Jet?” Ice asked with another chuckle.

Jet made a motion to turn his head, but Ice interrupted him.

“No, no, no,” Ice began calmly taking control. “Jazz hands, Jet. Up where I can see them.”

Slowly raising his hands to shoulder height, Jet adopted a furious expression, made all the easier as he stared at Candi’s mocking smirk.

“Do you have any idea how much we’re getting paid to hand you over?” Candi beamed with greed.  
“Who to?” Jet snapped. “S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W?” he asked virtually spitting the name in disgust.  
“Indirectly. Link your fingers, on your head.” Ice shoved Jet down, tapping behind the knees with his foot to force him to drop to the floor. “The Crows’ boss, Miharu, she’s paying us. She doesn’t care how you guys get stopped, and well, we like money. A lot of money. We can go or do anything we want now.”  
“And what is the going rate for treachery these days?” Jet asked.  
“We’re pocketing a shiny sixty thousand carbons for you,” Ice laughed spitefully. “Isn’t it nice to be wanted?”  
“So, you’re handing us over to BLI?” Jet spat. “After everything we… Everything Party did for you!”  
“It’s not personal, Jet,” Ice tried to justify their actions, but without really caring if Jet understood. “It’s just a business transaction.”  
“Business?” Jet growled angrily. “So, they’re dead now, are they?”  
“Oh, no,” Candi chuckled as Jet’s expression showed his disgust. “You’re all museum exhibits now. Cultural icons of the post war regime. Some new display for the Hart Collection. I’m told it’s very well constructed. Not too shabby for the high and mighty Killjoys.”

Jet looked into Candi’s smirking face, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

“What’s got you so amused?” Candi scowled, surprised at his reaction.

Jet didn’t need to answer the question as behind him a flash of light burned the air and with the slightest of surprised cries, Ice slumped lifelessly to the floor.

“Ice!” Candi screamed, eyes widening as she moved to step forward toward him.

Jet was on his feet in an instant, gun in hand and forcing her back away from her boyfriend and more importantly the gun that had fallen with him. Grabbing her around the throat with a strong left hand, he forced his gun into her neck.

Candi’s eyes were still wild and staring at nothing as she tried to take in what had happened. One moment, she and her boyfriend were on the verge of disappearing into the sunset with more money than they could even imagine, the next, he was dead on the floor at the hands of a mystery assailant and she was now forced up against the wall, with a gun pressed painfully into her neck and Jet’s furious expression, his eyes narrowed, dark and penetrating, boring into her.

“Where are they?” he yelled in her face as Red stepped from her hiding place into the room.

Candi shook her head, terrified.

“N… no! BLI will kill me i…if I tell you!” she stammered in reply.  
“What do you think this is?” Jet screamed in fury as he forced the gun so hard into her neck that the barrel tore her skin.

Candi squeezed her eyes shut in agony as the blood began to run down her neck, partially into the gun barrel itself. Pulling it back, Jet whipped the barrel across her cheek.

“I can take you to them!” Candi screamed in terror, tears rolling down her face. “Jet, I’m sorry! It was Ice. I didn’t… He made me do it! You know me,” she forced a smile. “Jet, it’s me, Candi. I wouldn’t hurt you guys, you know that. It was Ice.”  
“Jet,” Red spoke up from behind him. “I think I know where she means.”

Candi’s eyes widened at the announcement; her only hope for survival was through being needed.

It almost didn’t register. Only when the terrified expression on Candi’s face emerged did Jet realise what Red had said.

“There’s a museum in Battery City run by a woman called ‘Something’ Hart. They must be there. It was advertised in one of those BLI newspapers as something good for the people. To remind them of the supposedly vicious and destructive nature of history and its wars. I think BLI sponsor it to show people how much better life is under them.” Red placed air quotes around the word ‘better’ to emphasise her disdain.

Jet frowned and stared at Candi. She was whimpering now, his hand still around her throat. At the gaze, she began to nod nervously.

“The guy… someone called Sorby,” Candi stammered. “He’s Hart’s right hand man. He’s just taken Party. They’re all alive, Jet, I promise. We… we just wanted to run away. We…” Candi paused, staring with tear filled eyes at Ice.  
“Well,” Jet replied coldly. “Let me help you get away from it all.”

There was something in the phrasing or the tone, she wasn’t sure which, but Candi knew what he meant.

“No!” she sobbed pitifully. “Please, Jet…no!” she begged.

Pressing the trigger, Jet allowed the now dead figure of the misguided woman to drop to the floor before holstering his gun.

“Battery City,” he turned to face Red who merely nodded in reply and followed him from the apartment.

 

*

 

Fun Ghoul was sitting cross-legged at the wall of his cell on the opposite side to the wall he shared with Kobra. His expression, one of worry and concern, hadn’t changed since Party Poison had been unceremoniously dropped on the floor of the cell adjacent to Ghoul’s. He hadn’t moved in over an hour – neither of them had. One cell further along, Kobra was pacing; he couldn’t understand how Ghoul was able to simply sit, apparently calmly and wait. Waiting killed him; he had never felt the tranquillity of sitting calmly, not allowing the stress of anticipation to build. Kobra’s mouth dried and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Turning suddenly, he slapped both hands on the Perspex wall, eliciting a surprised reaction from Ghoul. Jolting suddenly, startled by the noise, Ghoul turned his upper body and head toward Kobra, placing his hands on the floor for balance. Raising an eyebrow, Ghoul took a deep sigh.

“Kobra,” he spoke gently, understanding his frustration but still mildly annoyed by it, “one day, you will be the death of me.”  
“Sorry, Ghoul,” Kobra replied quietly. “How is he?”  
“Still unconscious,” Ghoul sighed as he looked back to where Party lay. “He looks like he might have a bit more colour in his cheeks,” he added. “Well, you know, for him.”

Kobra chuckled; Party was not exactly known for his healthy, ruddy or tanned complexion.

“Oh!” Ghoul perked up as he saw Party’s eyelids flutter briefly. “I think he’s coming out of it.”

Moving to kneel so he had a better overall view of the man he loved, Ghoul leaned forward so that his head was almost touching the Perspex. Raising one hand to steady his balance, Ghoul’s eyes widened as he saw Party begin to twitch. His head jerked twice to the left, followed by his right shoulder in a series of small movements. Party’s features contorted as flashes of panic, sadness and pain rested fleetingly on his face. The twitching began to increase in quantity and violence and he was murmuring now. Incomprehensible at first, but the occasional word was making itself heard.

“…no… no…” he muttered before a cry escaped his lips.  
“Party!” Ghoul spoke softly yet loudly to make himself heard through the Perspex. “Party, it’s okay, you’re safe!”  
“No, he’s not!” Kobra cried. “What’s happening to him?”

Ghoul turned a panicked glare at the man in the next cell. He knew Kobra meant well, but he’d dealt with this hundreds of times, whilst Kobra wasn’t even aware of his brother’s nightmares – it was how Party had wanted to keep it.

“Kobra, I know what I’m doing,” Ghoul called back through gritted teeth.  
“What is it? What’s wrong?”  
“You’re not helping!”

Turning back, Party continued to twitch, tremble and call out. He appeared to be trying to fight, run or both but his thrashing and distress was growing steadily worse.

“Party, I’m here,” Ghoul continued softly, “I’ve got my arms around you. You’re safe, no one can hurt you. You’re safe, everything’s okay, trust me. Party, trust me!”

Party’s calls became less frequent and his tremors subsided, allowing Ghoul chance to let out a tense breath. His heart was racing; Ghoul hated the night terrors that Party suffered from. Sometimes, if caught early enough, he could calm him, but all too often it would result in full-blown panic. Party suffered afterward; it was a mental suffering rather than a physical one and although Ghoul had raised the subject on more than one occasion and at different times, he was no closer to finding out the source of the terrors. There was something he was certain that Party wasn’t telling him, something that haunted him and made him deeply sad and angry at the same time. It was something that he realised Party couldn’t even bring himself to think about, let alone discuss. Perhaps one day? He was almost calm when the thrashing started again, beginning in earnest this time. Possibly because he couldn’t get near to comfort him, Party’s panic continued to rise.

“No!” he screamed. “It’s… how can…”

Ghoul gasped as Party’s eyes flew open and he scrambled backwards. Jumping to his feet, Ghoul followed along the wall, pressing his palms up against it, desperate to join him in the next cell.

“Ghoul?” Kobra kept his voice quiet, but he was clearly distressed. “What’s happening?”

Ghoul was torn between the two brothers. Kobra was upset, not knowing what to do, but Party really needed him.

“Party,” he cooed gently. “It’s okay, I got you. It’s okay baby!”  
“Let him go! No!” Party screamed, swinging his arms as he fought off some invisible attacker. “Dad!” he finally gasped.

With that word, movement and awareness came back into his wild eyes. Sweat poured down his face, neck and back and he clamped his hands over his face as finally his conscious mind came back under control. Exhaling noisily, he allowed his hands to drop back down and he stared up at Ghoul’s shocked and pale expression.

Turning his eyes, Party glanced over Ghoul's shoulder to see Kobra staring, his eyes glistening as he realised that his brother was reliving witnessing their father’s murder. Kobra was too young to remember their father but he knew Party could and that he would never talk about it. Considering the pain now displayed on both their faces, Kobra felt he knew exactly why that was.


	14. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important things need to be said

“Jet?” Red began, pausing, waiting for some sort of response – it was already the second time she had said his name. “Jet!”  
“Red?” he replied, his tone somewhat clipped.  
“Is there a reason why we’re not red lining this bucket?”

The pair had left Dust Bowl far behind them already, but still only at the borders of Zone Two. Whilst hardly travelling slowly, Jet was keeping the Trans Am within reasonable speed limits. It didn’t seem to make any sense, if they floored the pedal, they could catch up with Sorby and rescue Party before they even reached the museum, but Jet seemed reluctant. Yes, they were his friends and his decision, but they were also the legendary Killjoys – she had met most of them and had grown surprisingly attached in a very short while, especially to this curly-haired irritating man.

“Yes,” he replied, without further elaboration.  
“Care to share?” Red poked him in the ribs only to cause his body to crease to the right as he tucked his elbow in protectively. “Ticklish, eh?” she smiled.  
“Have I told you you’re annoying?” Jet frowned.  
“Yes,” Red sighed, “but what you haven’t told me is why we’re going so slowly.”  
“Multiple reasons,” Jet shook his head.  
“What?” Red cried, exasperated. “Have I upset you or something?”  
“No,” he sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging as he released the tension he hadn’t realised he’d been storing up.  
“What’s wrong?” Red asked quietly, her tone edged with concern.  
“Honestly?” he asked, more to himself than to Red.  
“No, lie to me!” Red replied exasperated. “Of course, honestly!”

Jet gave Red a sidelong glance as he drove; somehow he felt comfortable opening up to her.

“I’ve known Candi for years,” he exhaled deeply. “I thought I could trust her with my life. You know?”  
“I can’t even imagine what it must be like to trust someone so much and be betrayed like that,” Red replied, thoughtfully. “The shock alone…” she allowed her words to taper off into the silence that hung in the car for another few minutes.  
“I didn’t know if I could do it, you know,” he whispered. “Everyone thinks we’re these tough heroes, but, when it came down to it…”  
“You don’t think you’re a hero?” Red asked, tilting her head and staring at the uncertain man seated beside her.  
“Me?” he laughed. “No, Party’s the one with the hero complex.”  
“Yeah, I get that, but don’t you think it took courage to do what you did today?”  
“It took something,” he replied wistfully.  
“Jet,” Red began tentatively. “It took guts, determination and strength.”  
“Red, killing someone you know… or at least, that you think you know, takes a piece of your soul.”  
“I’m sorry,” she reached over and squeezed his forearm.

Jet followed suit and patted her hand, grateful for the contact.

“Jet? When was the last time you slept?” Red asked, looking up and noticing how pale and tired he seemed.  
“Let’s not go there?” he gave a hollow laugh.  
“Should you even be driving?” she asked, poking him in the ribs again and getting the same response as earlier.  
“Okay, so keep me awake then,” he chuckled. “Tell me about you.”  
“I thought you said you wanted to be kept awake?” she offered a broad smile to accompany the self-deprecating joke.  
“Very funny! Come on, what’s your story?”  
“You pretty much know it,” Red shrugged. “My family were killed by BLI when I was four and I escaped a few years back.”  
“Do you remember them?” he asked, uncertain if it was a fair question to ask.  
“I made sure I did,” Red replied with a stern, almost cold tone. “Well, yes and no. I remember bits, not so much faces, but details. Like I know there was quite a gap between me and my brother. He was about seven or eight years older than me. I mean, I know he’d only have been about twelve when I was taken by BLI, but he might as well have been an adult.”  
“Do you remember anything about him?”  
“He was kind,” she tilted her head as she remembered. “Funny, always laughing,” Red took a deep breath. “He always looked out for me. And I miss him. What about you?”  
“I don’t really remember,” he shrugged. “All I know is my dad taking me out of Battery City one day and heading for Overmorsen in Zone One.”  
“What happened?” Red asked, cautiously.  
“The car hit a mine, or we were attacked or something. I really don’t know. I woke up in the desert, couldn’t remember anything for ages. Never found my dad.”  
“How did you survive?” Red asked concerned.  
“Doctor Death Defying found me. I owe him my life. He took me into his camp with a bunch of other medics and refugees from the Helium Wars.”  
“But you eventually remembered everything?”  
“No,” Jet shook his head. “At least, I don’t think so; I’m pretty sure I should have more memories than I do. The hardest part is not knowing.”  
“Do you even remember your original name?” she asked, heartbroken by the tale.  
“I do now, but I was twenty-two by the time I recovered what memories I have.”  
“Oh, Jet, I’m so sorry,” she breathed.  
“How about you? Do you remember your original name?”  
“Only my first name. It’s Scarlet.”  
“Ah, that’s where you get Red from?” Jet beamed a smile at her.  
“My brother had trouble with S’s when we were kids, so he called me Red.”

Jet smiled at the story; a touching commentary on a sibling relationship before BLI took over and left the world scared and broken. He shook his head sadly before sighing heavily a few times to forcibly calm himself.

“We can’t go fast this close to Bat City.”  
“Sorry?” Red asked, confused by the statement.  
“Your question – why am I not red-lining the car.”  
“Oh!” Red smiled broadly. “That was a bit of a long-winded route! Why not?”  
“Do you see those cameras?” Jet asked pointing to a small grey innocuous looking box at the side of the dusty Route Guano.  
“Yeah?”  
“They’re measuring speed and emissions. If I gun the engines we attract attention. I know it’s slow but it’s safer. Besides, if we catch up with Sorby, we might get Party back but I don’t want him to get word back about us. We’ll only put Ghoul and Kobra in danger.”  
“So, we take our time,” Red sighed.  
“We take our time,” Jet checked the battery level on his gun. “We get new batteries, maybe a few guns, for the guys for when we get them out.”  
“A few?” Red’s eyes popped wide at the idea. “They’re fifteen thousand carbons each!”

Jet laughed and flipped open a secret compartment underneath the dashboard. Withdrawing a bulky piece of equipment, Jet handed the gadget over to Red.

“No, they’re free,” he chuckled. “We have to reconfigure this every now and then, because BLI will insist on trying to stop us stealing from them, but Ghoul keeps on top of it. Handy with electronics, is Ghoul.”

Red stared down at the device in her hands.

“Vend-A-Hack,” she laughed. “He has a sense of humour too.”

Jet briefly turned a serious expression toward her.

“Once we’re equipped, we go in and rescue them. Scope it out, wait for darkness, if possible.”  
“If possible?” Red queried, picking up on Jet’s uncertainty.  
“I don’t know,” Jet frowned. “I’ve got a weird feeling this is going to turn into a firefight.”  
“Well,” Red tipped her head, “we make sure we’re ready then.”

Jet offered an appreciative smile to the younger woman seated beside him. She didn’t have to stay, she didn’t have to help and she certainly didn’t have to risk her life, but she had already and seemed willing to do it again.

“Why did you stay?” he asked, without a hint of malice in his voice.  
“What?” she chuckled in reply. “You don’t think I’m a BLI spy?”  
“I never did,” he returned.  
“Yeah, right!” Red rolled her eyes, remembering him and Ghoul practically playing pass the parcel with her.  
“Seriously, why did you stay?” he repeated.  
“Well, someone’s got to make sure you don’t get ghosted,” Red stuck her tongue out at him and laughed.

Jet laughed as he turned his attention back to the road. But despite the flippant nature of the reply, it could easily have been the case that all four of them might have been museum exhibits by now. Their natural cautiousness around Red had kept them apart and in other circumstances, because of the trust they all had for Candi and Ice, they may well have all been picked off by now.

*

“Are you okay, Party?” Ghoul asked tentatively.

Party lowered his eyes and sighed, licking his dry lips as he wondered what to say. More than that he wondered what he had said.

“You… you were dreaming about your dad’s murder?”

Party looked up at Ghoul, alarmed by the words. He had to know, he just had to.

“Wh-what did I say?” he asked, appearing uncharacteristically vulnerable and turning his attention between Ghoul and Kobra.  
“You didn’t say anything,” Ghoul replied slowly – this was a conversation they were going to come back to at some future point when Kobra wasn’t around. “You seemed to be fighting someone, then you shouted ‘dad’ and you woke up.”

Party swallowed and took a deep calming breath. Nodding he seemed to be allowing his heart rate to return to normal. He wanted to quiz Ghoul more about his exact words, whether he had given anything away but he knew that firstly, he wouldn’t do that in front of his brother – it was bad enough that his secret about his nightmares was out – but he also didn’t want Ghoul to realise the significance of any of the things he might have said.

“Are you okay, Party?” Kobra repeated Ghoul’s question quietly.

Party pulled his lips into a thin line. He felt he knew what was coming – Kobra was worried about him certainly, but for the moment there would almost certainly be condemnations for his having kept his nightmares a secret in the first place.

“I’m fine, Kiddo,” he nodded to emphasise his words.  
“Party?” Kobra began tentatively, before pausing. “You never told me you had nightmares.”  
“No,” Party replied, uncertain where Kobra was going.

Ghoul looked from one brother to another as if watching a tennis match. Both voices were subdued and nervous. Ghoul chewed his lower lip waiting for the explosion – but which one would snap first?

“Ghoul knows,” Kobra lowered his eyes. “He’s seen it before. Many times, apparently.”  
“Kobra,” Party licked his lips nervously, “is now…?” he paused; what was he going to say?  
_“I got my arms around you. It’s okay, baby_.” Kobra quoted, earning a deep worried frown from Ghoul as he spoke the words slowly and deliberately.  
“What are you asking, Kobra?” Party replied hesitantly, pushing his hand nervously through his fiery red hair.  
“What do you think I’m asking, Party?”

Ghoul let out a breath suddenly, not realising that he’d been holding it. Looking down sheepishly and trying not to make eye contact with either of the brothers, Ghoul finally looked up as Kobra began to chuckle as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Oh, you two are a picture, you know that?” he smirked.

Ghoul’s face softened and an unexpected smile formed on his face. Party appeared agitated and his expression lay somewhere between indignant and confused.

“Okay, Party,” Kobra’s smile broadened. “I’ve made you squirm enough. Jet and I both know about you and Ghoul. But I’m concerned about the nightmares.”  
“I…” Party, now also standing, “I’m not sure I want to discuss it.”  
“Party, it’s upsetting you! I’m your brother, let me help.”  
“You can’t,” Party appeared uncomfortable, and unable to look Kobra in the eyes.  
“What’s going on, Party!” Kobra snapped. “Why don’t you ever trust me? First it’s missions…”  
“Well, see how that worked out!”  
“Hey!” Ghoul intervened, leaping up to literally and metaphorically stand between them. “That wasn’t Kobra’s fault and it’s not like we did any better, is it?”

Party banged a fist against the Perspex and sighed heavily.

“I can’t believe Candi did this to us!” he complained loudly. “I just hope they didn’t get Jet and Red.”  
“Don’t be changing the subject!” Kobra replied, determined to stay on track, but almost immediately, he reacted to Party’s last comment. “Who’s Red?”  
“Oh, you’d like her,” Ghoul smiled. “She’s just your type.”  
“What’s my type?” Kobra asked suspiciously.  
“Female and breathing,” Party quipped.  
“Funny!” Kobra frowned.  
"Seriously," Ghoul grinned. "She's tiny and feisty," he beamed. "She even managed to irritate Jet!"  
" _Very_ feisty," Party corrected with a sigh. "She kicked _my_ ass!"  
" _You?_ Why were you fighting a little girl?" Kobra raised an eyebrow, barely noticing Ghoul's stifled laughter at the admission; very keen to hear more on this unexpected announcement.  
“You should ask her exactly that question!” Ghoul’s face lit up with mischief, knowing what Red’s response would be to those two words she seemed to hate so much.  
“Why don’t you ask her on a date, Ghoul,” Party pouted. “You’re single now!”  
“Ah, you love me really!” Ghoul’s smile was irrepressible and no matter how hard he tried, Party could not remain angry.

Kobra took a deep calming breath as his face grew serious once more.

“You still haven’t told me what your nightmare was about. I heard you call out Dad. Do you know who killed him? How he died?”

A loud crashing noise drew their attention and all three turned to the entrance to the exhibit as the doors were flung open dramatically.

“Well, well, well,” the man smirked triumphantly. “Party Poison, Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid, trapped like rats.”  
“Korse!” Party growled almost spitting the word in distaste and drawing himself up defiantly.


	15. Korse Takes Party Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korse plans to take them all for interrogation but has to settle for one.

Korse took slow, purposeful steps toward the cells, his face the very picture of arrogance and silent gloating. Three of the Killjoys imprisoned and ready to be taken to the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit headquarters. Turning to one of the draculoids accompanying him, he gave brief instructions before sending him from the room.

“Get me three Violent Offender Wagons and the owner of this establishment.”

Offering a respectful bob of his head, the draculoid turned quickly on his heels and headed out to make the call to headquarters. The second of the two orders would be unnecessary as Evelyn Hart and her assistant, Sorby, swept into the room.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Evelyn demanded as she approached the Exterminator, still standing, examining and smirking at the Killjoys.  
“I have a warrant for their arrest,” Korse snapped. “And if you don’t want to be arrested for harbouring criminals, you’ll do everything you can to assist me.”  
“I will do no such thing!” she snapped in return. “I have a contract signed by Katsumi Miharu, the manager of your own unit, that entitles me to set up this exhibition. And so far, I’ve paid over one hundred thousand carbons for the privilege. So, I will not be handing my exhibits over to you for any reason!”

Opening a folder, Sorby coolly withdrew a set of papers, a copy of the contract, and handed it to Korse to examine. Snatching the papers, Korse cast his eyes over the contents, growing angrier by the second.

“Oh,” Party laughed. “So close, Korse!”

Throwing the contract back towards Sorby and not caring that it fluttered to the floor, Korse marched to Party’s cell and looked him coldly in the eyes.

“On the contrary, Poison,” he smirked. “You haven’t read the contract, have you?”

The amusement was suddenly lost from Party’s eyes and he frowned in concern; what was Korse planning? Yes, it was bad enough locked up in these cells intended for exhibition, but at least this way, their friends would know exactly where they were and could attempt a rescue. If Korse were to manage to get any or all of them to the BLI Headquarters, there was no telling what might happen to them.

“I don’t know what you think is happening here, Exterminator Korse,” Sorby stepped forward, picking up the dropped copy of the contract. “But it quite clearly states that the exhibits are ours, bought and paid for, and that we may keep them to do with as we see fit.”

Korse turned a cruel smile toward Sorby.

“The contract refers to the disruption of the operation and content of the exhibition. The exhibits are listed as Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, Kobra Kid and Jet Star.”  
“So?” Sorby snapped. “If you’re going to suggest that because we don’t have their given names that it’s null and void, then…”

Korse waved a hand to interrupt the man and such was his presence, Sorby stopped speaking, finding himself somewhat unnerved by the fact of it.

“No,” Korse chuckled unpleasantly, “but I like your thinking. The exhibition is not yet operational, and is incomplete. In short, you do not have an exhibit in place to disrupt.”  
“That does not give you the right to…”  
“I have the right to remove your exhibits and question them. They are rebels and I need to interrogate them.”

The draculoid who Korse had sent for back up returned and offered a respectful nod.

“Exterminator Korse, sir. One of the VO Wagons has arrived.”  
Korse nodded. “Fetch the restraining board; I want Party Poison taken back to headquarters immediately.”  
“Absolutely not!” Evelyn shouted angrily. “How dare you come in here and…”

Korse drew his gun and raised it, not aiming directly, but pointing it in her and Sorby’s general direction. He was in no mood for an argument.

“When my men are returned and ready, you will allow them access to Poison’s cell. Do you have any method of rendering him unconscious?” Korse paused. “Well, do you?” he snapped.  
“Yes,” she replied, her tone clipped.

She was furious that in her own property, she could be threatened by an Exterminator. Especially as she had gone to such lengths as to have a contract drawn up.

“Miles,” she turned to Sorby. “Contact Miharu, let her know what’s going on. I’m certain that she didn’t have this in mind when she agreed.”

Korse sneered unkindly. As a circle of draculoids prevented Sorby from leaving.

“Who do you think told me they were here?” he laughed. “Miharu will do whatever it takes to rid the world of these rebels. Now, drug him and open the cell. I am taking him.”  
“He is my property!” Evelyn insisted.  
“You’ll get him back,” Korse finally explained. “As much as I’d like to wipe his memory and parade him as a BLI drone for all the rebels to see, I think this is far crueller for him.”

Korse spared Party a glance, smirking at the idea of the man who had caused so much trouble being held in a small transparent cell for the remainder of his life.

“You can take one, not all three,” Evelyn relaxed at the words.  
“I need them all,” Korse demanded.  
“One at a time,” she insisted. “Miharu would agree, I’m sure. As a gesture of good faith.”  
“Very well,” he conceded.

Inside the cells, having watched the exchange, the three Killjoys appeared nervous and concerned. They were hoping he would be overruled; as desperate as their situation was in the museum, it would be ten times worse if Korse had them.

Reaching for the remote in her purse, Evelyn was already pressing a button when Kobra rushed to the front of his cell.

“No!” he shouted, fearful for his brother. “You want one of us? Take me. Party doesn’t know anything I don’t know.”  
“Touching,” Korse chuckled as Kobra slapped his hand on the transparent wall in anger. “But I suspect he does,” he added turning a meaningful glance toward the red-haired Killjoy.

Party stared angrily back in return. At first, he didn’t notice the light fruity smell that permeated through the air. Only when he found himself blinking and swaying lightly did he realise what was happening.

“Party,” Ghoul frowned unhappily – aware of how powerful and fast acting the drug was. “Sit down before you fall.”

Party hadn’t expected the drug in the form of a gas pumped into the cell. It seemed so unnecessary; Korse and the draculoids were all armed. Yes, he could have put up a fight, but it would have been pointless – they had Ghoul and Kobra and as such he was easily threatened with their safety. Now beyond coherent thought, he wasn’t even certain he had heard Ghoul speak. He slumped heavily to his knees, falling sideways into the corner.

Ghoul moved alongside him, desperate in his frustration that there was nothing he could do to help him. Already, the remaining gas was being pumped out of the cell and the door unlocked.

“We’ll get out of this, Party,” Ghoul whispered, as he watched two draculoids enter the cell carrying a long resin board.

It was similar in shape to a surfboard but with cutaway sections and holes down the length of both sides and at regular intervals in two lines either side of the centre. Immediately it became apparent why. From a pocket on the underside of the board, the draculoids pulled a handful of thick Velcro straps. Placing Party, without care, onto the board, they set about fastening several straps around his arms, legs, waist and chest. One strap on its own, perhaps he could have pulled apart, but the sheer number, Ghoul counted ten, would hold anyone securely, even without the drug, that he knew would leave Party disorientated and weak on waking.

Lifting the end at which lay Party’s head, one of the draculoids pulled a lever, releasing a small set of wheels at the other end. Exiting the cell, the draculoids waited for Korse.

“When I’ve finished interrogating him, you’ll get him back,” he announced.  
“How long will that be?” Evelyn pressed, still fuming at his treatment of her.  
“That will depend how stubborn he is, won’t it?” he smirked.  
“I won’t have my exhibition delayed,” he retorted. “I’m expecting to receive Jet Star either today or tomorrow and I want to open shortly after that. I’ve sunk a great deal of money into this.”

Both Ghoul and Kobra turned their heads in her direction as she announced the imminent arrival of their friend. Had he been captured too? Their situation was looking bleaker by the moment.

“I’m sure you’ll cope,” Korse began only to be interrupted.  
“I want to know when I’m getting him back,” she insisted. “I’m being accommodating enough.”  
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for a receipt,” he mocked in return.  
“That might not be such a bad idea!”  
“You’ll get him back soon enough,” he growled. “He’s not going to hold up to my interrogators for long,” he added with a sly smile.

“I wouldn’t bet on that!” Ghoul yelled, partly in frustration and partly to cast doubt on his early return, hoping that she might somehow be able to prevent his removal.

But his words were ignored by Korse who, with a flick of his wrist and one finger extended, indicated to the door and strode out, followed by the squad of draculoids, one of whom was wheeling the still unconscious form of Party Poison, strapped to the restraining board.

Evelyn huffed her irritation as she and Sorby followed them out. Left alone, Ghoul walked slowly to Kobra’s side of the cell, both devastated by the turn of events.

“Ghoul,” Kobra stared at his feet, finding it difficult to make eye contact – it seemed that Ghoul’s words had only served to cause Kobra to worry more. “Do you believe we’ll see him again?”  
“Kobra,” Ghoul began, his voice shakier than he had intended.

“Kobra,” he restarted, with more confidence in his voice, although he had no clue where it had come from. “Not only will we see Party again, we’ll see the diner again. We’ll get out of this, Kobra, we have to believe that.”

Kobra looked up, able to make eye-contact at last with the shorter man.

“But you heard her,” Kobra sighed. “She’s got Jet too. I just don’t see how we can get out of this.”  
“Oh, ye of little faith!” came a voice, followed by a light chuckle.

Ghoul and Kobra both looked up, startled by the sound. Glancing around to find the source, their eyes were drawn upwards at the sound of another chuckle.

“Jet!” Kobra spoke in a hoarse whisper; elated but remembering to keep his volume down.

Above the pair, a ceiling panel had been moved aside and peering out, Jet Star beaming at them from the vantage point.

“Is Red with you?” Ghoul asked.  
“You think she’d let me take all the credit for rescuing you?” he smiled. “Ow! Hey!”

Ghoul grinned up as he saw a hand smack Jet across the back of the head.

“Hey, Red!” he called quietly.  
“Is this the little girl you told me about?” Kobra asked, to Ghoul’s amusement.  
“What did he say?” Red hissed.  
“Sshh!” Jet replied to his incensed companion. “You can kick his ass later, we have to get them out first.”

Jet lowered a long length of thick knotted rope through the panel and swung himself around to thread his feet through the gap in the ceiling before making his way carefully down into the exhibition room.

“Ghoul?” Kobra strolled casually to stand near his friend. “Why do I get the feeling you set me up?”  
“Dunno,” he shrugged in reply, still with a mischievous grin plastered across his face. “Is it your snakey-sense tingling?”

Kobra narrowed his eyes at Ghoul who merely winked in reply.

“Your cuteness may hold some sway with Party, Ghoul, but I will kick your tiny ass from here to Zone Six.”  
“I’m flattered that you think I’m cute, Kobra, really,” Ghoul batted his eyelashes, “but you know I’m taken.”

Jet turned his head to look at the pair as he held the rope steady for Red to climb down.

“Kobra?” Jet feigned disappointment. “Flirting with your brother’s boyfriend? That’s cold, man.”  
“Wh-what? No!” Kobra stammered. “That’s not…” he sighed, realising Jet was laughing quietly to himself.

On dropping almost silently to the floor, Red turned an angry glare to the only person in the room she had not yet met. Why did everyone have to call her a little girl? It was getting beyond a joke now. Kobra stared back, a faint smile pulling at his lips, his eyes settling on hers and softening into an inquisitive and appreciative expression.

“You are not a _little girl_ ,” he said softly. “You’re beautiful!”

Red was taken aback by the comment, and momentarily considered the possibility that it was insincere. Her defensive stance softened under Kobra’s continued gaze – if he was faking it, she had to admit, he was impressively good at it. She tapped her finger on her lips for a few seconds.

“The jury’s still out on you,” she conceded.

Ghoul spun on his heels and threw his arms in the air dramatically, looking to the ceiling he spoke to no one in particular.

“And the _snake-charmer’s_ at it again!”

Jet smiled to himself; if anyone was going to manage to get in Red’s good books with a single line, it was going to be Kobra.

“I’ll get the guns, can you let them out?” Jet instructed as he headed for the display case.  
“Sure.”

Red marched over to Kobra’s cell, allowing her hips to sway a little more than usual.

“Hi, you must be Kobra Kid,” she winked. “I’m Little Red, and I’ll be your rescuer today.”  
“I’m entirely in your hands,” he smirked as she hit the release button on the door, causing Ghoul to roll his eyes.

Stepping through into the relative freedom of the room, Kobra cocked his head at Red as she released Ghoul from his cell. Jet could see the younger man frowning as he returned with their guns, plus Party’s. He could see that something seemed to be bothering Kobra, but what exactly that was would surprise them all.

“Scarlet? Is that you?” he finally asked.


	16. Party Poison's interrogation begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party is interrogated, or is he? And Kobra and Ghoul's rescue almost goes to plan

It was an entirely white room without furniture. Even the interrogator wore entirely white clothing. The only colour in the room was Party Poison, standing upright and defiant in the centre of the room. From the ceiling above him, five beams of white light encircled him, holding him captive within their circumference. He wasn’t certain how it worked – Ghoul and Kobra were more adept with gadgetry than he was – but somehow even the spaces between the beams were impenetrable, effectively holding him within a cylinder of light.

At first the beams had been spread wide, allowing him room to lie down, as he had been unconscious when taken, but now he was awake the beams had been drawn in and he was forced to stand.

The interrogator had been in the room for about half an hour and had circled him, made notes, adjusted the light beams and made derisory snorting or laughing noises. Another man may have been drawn in to his game, but Party refused to be baited and remained silent, simply staring blankly ahead. If the interrogator wanted a reaction from him, he would have to work much harder than that!

“Name?” the man dressed in white demanded as, once more, he circled his captive. “Name!” he yelled again on receiving no reply.

The flame-haired man remained still and unflinching at the sudden increase in volume, simply staring ahead at the wall refusing even to acknowledge the Better Living Industries’ interrogator.

“Do you know who I am?” the man in white sneered as he stepped in front to face him.

Party Poison focussed his eyes on the man standing before him and allowed his lips to curl into a lazy smirk.

“You’re not having a good day if you don’t know who either of us are.”

Furious, the man stabbed at one of the buttons on the remote he held in his left hand and a shaft of purple light sparked from each of the light beams of Poison’s prison. Searing through him at waist level but leaving no mark, Poison grimaced in pain and his knees briefly buckled under him. Gathering his wits, he stood firm, taking in air in short gasps and trying hard not to show his discomfort. The man in white snorted his approval at the reaction.

“You realise, of course, that that’s one of the lowest intensity shocks I can give you. There are eight more levels and the final one will kill you.”  
“Well, you won’t get anything out of me if you kill me,” Party replied bringing his breathing back under control.  
“Perhaps not, but I may kill you if it looks like you won’t co-operate. I’m not going to waste valuable time on you, Poison. There are three others where you came from,” he chuckled callously.  
“Three?” Party’s expression grew despondent.  
“Ah, you don’t know,” the man in white allowed a grin to spread across his face. “We have all four of you now,” he lied. “The Fabulous Killjoys are no more.”

Party swallowed hard. However bleak their situation seemed, he would not give in. They were the Killjoys and, to his mind, they may be captured but that did not mean they had to crumble and give in.

“So, name?” the man repeated his earlier question.  
“Party Poison,” came the defiant reply.  
“Your real name!” he demanded.  
“Party Poison!” he yelled in return, refusing to submit.  
“Very well, _Party Poison_ ,” the man sneered. “A period of ultra-violet will loosen your will, along with your tongue.”

Pressing a button on the remote, the five light beams that circled him closed in on Party until they pressed against his body. Surprised by their steel-like rigidity, he found himself held firm, unable to move, not even to extend a finger between the beams. It felt to him as if they had moulded around him, allowing him only the capacity to breathe.

“Comfortable?” the man smiled as he pressed a second button.

As he did, a small throaty croak emerged from Party’s lips as the invisible ultra-violet light swept through every inch of his body. It wasn’t as painful a burst of energy as the previous purple light had been, but this was not a burst of energy, this was a slow, agonising, pulsating flow. Within moments, Party realised that the man intended to maintain the level of energy currently flowing the length of his body. Only now he realised why the light beams had been drawn in. He knew it was only a matter of time before he could no longer support his own weight. Gritting his teeth as he called on whatever reserves of defiance he could muster, Party prayed for the strength to withstand the onslaught.

“Let’s see how long you can take that, _Party Poison_!” the man laughed. “Or should I say, Gerard?”

Party’s eyes widened at the response. The man knew his name. He didn’t know how, neither did he know why he had questioned him for over an hour for information he already had. Held firm, and unable either to move, pass out or fight back, all he knew was that he was now suffering for refusing to answer the man’s unnecessary question. The unnerving thought crossed his mind that perhaps there were no real questions. Perhaps there was no interrogation? Was this all just to break him?

Closing his eyes against the pain, Party clenched his jaw, trying hard to keep the agony from voicing itself. Fearful that once a cry escaped his lips it might be impossible to stop.

*

Red turned sharply to stare at Kobra.

“H-how do…” she paused, frowning at the Killjoy who was beaming a bright, cheerful smile at her.  
“Mi…!” Red forced herself to stop before composing herself. “Well now, someone did a nice job of growing up!” she replied casting her eyes over Kobra with an appreciative smile.

Kobra tilted his head and offered a lazy smile.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve changed too,” he replied, smirking as her eyes widened in response.  
“You cheeky bastard!” she gasped. “No, you haven’t changed at all!”  
“Come here!” he grinned, scooping her up and spinning her around briefly.

As Kobra lowered Red to the ground once more, he looked down. At first simply happy to see her, but moments after their eyes met Kobra quickly closed the gap to place his lips softly on hers.

“Umm, Kobra?” Ghoul interjected. “Do you think we could maybe escape, please?”  
“Huh?” Kobra broke the kiss with a slight flush of embarrassment. “Oh, yeah,” he smiled.  
“Jet,” Ghoul frowned as he inspected his gun. “The battery’s been taken out.”  
“Don’t worry, we brought some spares,” Jet replied, holding the rope for Kobra to climb up.  
“And some spare guns,” Red added as she climbed. “Love your gadget, by the way.”  
Ghoul smiled. “Yeah, I could make a fortune off those, if anyone in the zones had any money!”  
“Ghoul,” Jet smirked, “if they had any money, they wouldn’t need one!”

Ghoul shrugged; he had a point.

“You next,” Jet pointed to the rope.  
“You go, then you and Kobra can just haul me up. It’ll swing too much if you’re on it with no one holding it.”

It was Jet’s turn to concede the point as he quickly headed up, Kobra reaching down to help him the last couple of feet.

“Come on,” Jet leaned back down, both his and Kobra’s hands on the rope ready to pull.

Settling himself on the rope, with his ankles wrapped around it just above one of the knots, the two men began to pull.

“No!” came a shrill cry from the door.

All eyes turned to see Evelyn returning to the exhibition room with Sorby at her side, both horrified to see them escaping.

“Pull!” Jet ordered.

He and Kobra pulled hard on the rope, with Ghoul also opting to climb, scrambling up the rope as fast as he was able.  
“She’s got a gun!” Red shouted, from behind them, unable to reach into the too small gap to help.

The flash of light tore through the subtly lit room and the rope suddenly spun as Ghoul sagged, his right hand, that had been reaching up toward Jet, now hung at his side. His head dropped suddenly and the fingers of his left hand began to uncurl from around the rope.

“Ghoul!” Jet cried, as the younger man fell back to the floor unmoving.

There was no time for any more words as Kobra pulled Jet away from the open panel as a shot exploded on the frame. Hoisting the rope back up quickly, Kobra pushed the panel in place and pulled at Jet’s arm.

“What the hell, man!” Jet’s eyes widened. “You’re just leaving him?”  
“Find them!” they heard Evelyn shout from below. “Lock down all exits, all of them! They mustn’t escape!”  
“If he’s alive we can rescue him,” Kobra pulled again at his arm as they all felt another laser shot hit the panel. “But we have to get away from here, at least for now.”

*

Party Poison woke slowly, disorientated and confused. He managed to open his eyes, but they fell shut again almost immediately as the brightness of the room threatened to trigger a migraine. Groaning softly, he counted his limbs; they all seemed to be there, although he could only really tell by the sheer amount of aching they were making him suffer. He tried again to open his eyes and managed only to get them to open half way.

“Why does it have to be so goddamned bright in here?” he muttered quietly to himself.  
“I can have it altered, if you prefer?”

Party turned his head sharply toward the sound of the voice, and automatically reached for his gun. The sudden motion causing him to collapse backwards as the room spun and his head felt as if it would crack open. He didn’t even notice that his gun wasn’t at his side.

“I’m sorry,” the voice responded soothingly, as Party sunk back onto what he now realised was a bed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”  
“Who are you?” he groaned as he tried hard to stop the room from spinning, closing his eyes in the hope that it would help.

He felt a cool, damp cloth being placed over his forehead and a gentle hand stroking his hair. The bed was comfortable, the touch was soothing, even the light had dimmed. Beneath the cloth, Party’s furrowed brow relaxed and he allowed his shoulders to do the same.

“That’s better,” she responded in a calming tone. “Just relax, you’re safe here. I’m looking after you.”

Party took in a few deep breaths as she continued to stroke his hair. Only when she bent down to softly press her lips to his did his eyes fly open once more. Startled, the woman sat back up as Party scrambled backwards on the bed, suddenly wide awake, the cloth falling from his forehead onto his lap.

Sitting in front of him was a gentle looking, slender woman with a short bob of green hair, dressed in a form-fitting black body suit. Party stared at her for a few moments before speaking again.

“Who are you?”  
“Green PD68B,” she replied. “What would you like to call me?”  
“Green? You’re a porno droid?” he asked, puzzled by her presence and confused by his own whereabouts.  
“Yes, Gerard,” she replied. “I’m here to look after you.”  
“My name’s Party,” he frowned.  
“I’m sorry, I’ve been programmed to call you Gerard.”

Party looked around for any hidden cameras. Not seeing one, he decided to speak anyway, just in case.

“You think a pretty face calling me Gerard is going to make me forget who I am?” he shouted into the room.  
“Who are you talking to?” Green asked.  
“Doesn’t matter,” he shook his head. “I want you to call me Party.”  
“I’m sorry, Gerard, I can’t do that.”

Party looked around the room once more and shook his head angrily. They were trying to get to him and the worst of it was that it was working.

“What are you here for?” he asked Green.  
“Whatever you want, I am to give you.”

The reply seemed unlikely to be true, as she had already denied his first request, but it seemed worth asking anyway.

“Yeah?” Party raised an eyebrow. Swinging his legs off the bed, he regretted the action immediately and remained still for a few moments while he gathered himself before pushing himself to his feet. Once steady, Party moved with some trepidation and pain toward the door, realising immediately that, as expected, it was locked.

“Can you get us out of here?”  
“I’m sorry, Gerard,” she lowered her eyes regretfully. “We're not allowed to leave the room.”

Party frowned. Wait, was there a loop hole they hadn’t considered?

“Okay, so _we_ can't, but can you get the door open so _I_ can leave?” he asked tentatively.  
“Yes, I can do that,” Green announced to his surprise.

Party watched with uncertainty as she placed her right palm on the door panel on the wall to the side. Green then lowered her hand as the red light flicked to green and, to his amazement, the door slid open.

Stepping out of the room, Party’s arms were seized by the strong hands of two men – he assumed draculoids, but it happened too fast to see – slammed into the wall opposite and forced to his knees, Party grimaced as his hands were pulled behind him and restraints locked firmly around his wrists. A gag was pulled deep into his mouth and tied firmly at the nape of his neck. Finally, a white drawstring cotton bag was pulled over his head and the strings pulled tight around his neck, making him gasp against the gag.

“Your will and determination will be the death of you, Gerard,” Korse’s voice mocked him close to his ear. He laughed, delighting in the fast and irregular rise and fall of Party’s chest as his anger took control.

Korse straightened up once more, addressing the two draculoids.

“Let’s see if we can’t change some of that anger to fear,” he laughed again. “Take him to the Memory Chamber and get him ready. I’ll be there shortly.”

Writhing in the draculoids’ grip, Party was dragged along the corridor struggling desperately against his captors, with his frustrated screams heavily muffled by the gag and hood.

Green PD68B watched, concerned. She had been programmed to look after him.


	17. Unanswered Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kobra and Party both have questions

Sorby clipped his communicator back onto his belt. The museum guards had their orders and already the building was in full lockdown. He knew that Kobra, Jet and their female friend were still located somewhere in the building. It was merely a matter of finding them now.

Moving forward, Sorby pulled Ghoul over onto his back, astonished to see him still breathing and without a mark on him. Turning a confused expression toward Evelyn, Sorby offered a questioning expression.

“How did you do that?” he asked.

Evelyn lifted the white gun still in her hand and pointed to the two small dials along the cocking section of the barrel.

“As a ‘thank you’ BLI gave me one of their newer weapons. It has adjustable power and spread. I had the laser on full spread and low power so it would hit his whole body and not burn him. The low power just knocked him out.”  
“Interesting,” Sorby smiled appreciatively. “What do you want me to do with him?”  
“I’d like you to put him in guest room one, next to mine.”  
“Yes, Miss Hart.” Sorby nodded, calling for assistance. “Do you want a governor implanted in him?”  
Evelyn smiled broadly. “Ah, Miles, what would I do without you?”  
“Miss Hart?”  
“No, not for Ghoul, just a collar and activate the room's perimeter. But,” she smiled as she pulled a small remote control from her purse. “I know how we will find the others.”

Turning the dial half way, Evelyn smiled maliciously.

“All you need do now is ask your men to listen for the sound of Kobra in excruciating pain.”  
“The governor?” Sorby smiled. “Of course. I’ll see to it at once.”

Leaning down, Sorby hauled the limp form of Fun Ghoul up onto his shoulder once more and headed from the exhibition room.

*

Still hiding in the spaces between the structural shell of the museum and the constructed ceilings, Kobra gasped, stumbling forward and dropping to one knee clutching the back of his neck. His face contorted in agony as the governor triggered waves of pain coursing initially down his spine, but within moments it was radiating into his limbs, head and abdomen. Wrapping his left arm across his waist and gripping tightly, Kobra now on both knees, curled over and rocked slightly, his eyes screwed up in agony.

“Kobra,” Jet whispered, alarmed at the sight of his now deathly pale friend trying his hardest to prevent screams of excruciating pain bursting from his lips. “What is it? What’s wrong?”  
“Gov…” his jaw clenched once more as another wave of agony washed over him. “G-governor… neck,” he gasped.  
“She’s…” Jet’s eyes widened in horror at the realisation that an implanted governor was causing Kobra such immense pain. “Le… leave me,” he insisted with a vague wave of a hand. “Go.”  
“We’re not leaving you, Kobra,” Jet insisted, casting a glance toward Red who vigorously nodded her agreement.

Jet searched his mind for some idea of what could realistically be done. Kobra was unable to walk, or even be carried in his agony. Besides, the ceiling struts were managing to hold their weight if they moved individually on all fours to spread the load, but if he were to carry Kobra, their combined weight concentrated in one spot would almost certainly cause the ceiling to collapse. Short of continuing as they were, there seemed no way to keep going and no way to stop the pain. He knew the younger man couldn’t remain silent much longer as the pain was already causing him to lose control.

Red’s face creased in distress as tears sprang to Kobra’s eyes as, elsewhere in the museum, Evelyn turned the intensity up still further, causing him to collapse onto his side.

“She must be controlling the pain levels,” Red placed a hand on Jet’s arm. “I’m going to find her, I can stop her.”  
“How?” Jet asked.  
“With this if I have to,” she replied indicating her gun. “But I can take her down with minimum noise and I’ll find out what happened to Ghoul too.”

At their side, Kobra was now almost whimpering as the pain grew ever more intense and unmanageable. Every now and then, a stifled cry escaped his lips as a sharp, stabbing pain travelled into his head, leaving him gasping for breath.

“Sorry, Kobra,” Red frowned unfastening her right boot. “You’re going to attract attention if you keep making noise.”

Jet watched in surprise as she pulled out a small carefully wrapped package from which she removed a piece of material about the size of a sock and stuffed it into Kobra’s mouth.

“Don’t lose that!” she whispered quietly at Jet. “That’s important to me.”

He merely nodded in reply, cradling Kobra in his arms rocking him comfortingly as Red made her way back down the large duct once more.

“Hold on, Kobra,” Jet whispered. “I’m sure she’ll find her and stop the pain.”

Moving a few yards further back, Red slowly eased a panel back and peered through; the coast was clear. Lowering herself through the panel, pulling it back over as she settled herself hanging by her fingertips, she frowned at how far from the ground she still was. Swinging slightly, she prepared herself to drop as she swung forward. Letting go of the ceiling, she landed lightly rolling forward to take the shock of the landing off he ankles. Rising to her feet, thankfully without damage, she turned and looked up – the panel had slid back into place. Good. Taking note of her location, she headed down the corridor in the hope that it would take her in the direction of the Hart woman. She had known Kobra – Mikey – since she was five years old when they were both in the employ of BLI after, she assumed, that he had also lost his family. He had been about nine or ten when they met and had acted as a mentor and, still keenly feeling the loss of her older brother, he had stepped into the role of protector to her. She knew he had an older brother and that they were close, although she had never met him – it was astonishing to her that she would meet him all these years later. Perhaps what was even stranger was how she felt – that kiss. That amazing kiss. She recalled feeling slightly annoyed with Ghoul for interrupting, and now felt guilty that it very likely prevented his escape. She desperately hoped it hadn’t cost his life. She had to find out what had happened to him.

Ducking into a room quickly as she heard footsteps, she watched as two security guards rushed past, clearly searching for them. She released a silent sigh of relief as they headed past the panel she had jumped through and continued down the corridor without stopping. It was then that another sound, a very distinctive sound, drew her attention. The slow click of high heeled shoes on the tiled floor told her that Hart was approaching. There was only one audible set of footsteps, but just to be certain, she waited until Evelyn had taken a few steps past the entrance before stepping out and bringing the side of her hand in a sharp, carefully aimed chop down on the base of her neck where it joined the shoulder. Immediately, Evelyn crumpled soundlessly and Red dragged her into the room in which she had hidden. As she fell, Red smiled as she heard a light clicking of something light and plastic bouncing on the tiles. Dumping Evelyn to the side without care, she checked the corridor once more before retrieving what she knew would be the remote for the governor in Kobra’s neck. She scowled angrily as she realised that the dial was already turned up to two-thirds full power. This woman was going to pay for making him suffer the way she had. Immediately, she turned the dial back down to zero and after removing the precious battery, crushed the device as quietly as possible under the heel of her boot.

*

Kobra sagged in Jet’s arms as the pain suddenly ceased and his tired aching muscles were released from holding in his agonised cries.

“Kobra?” Jet whispered, looking desperately for signs that his friend was still breathing.

Reaching up with a shaky hand, Kobra pulled the material from his mouth and suppressed a cough.

“If she’s shoved a sock in my mouth, I am going to kill her!” he muttered grumpily.  
“So, kissing to killing is only a sock apart? So fickle!”  
“A sock, Jet!” he whispered hoarsely, as he pushed himself slowly to his knees before dropping the material into Jet’s outstretched hand.  
“Calm down!” Jet unfolded what he now realised was a piece of a blanket. “It’s not a sock, it’s a…”

Stopping suddenly, Jet blanched and his mouth dried as he looked at the cloth in his hand before shoving it into his pocket.

“It’s a what?”  
“Nothing,” Jet shook his head, inhaling deeply as he saw Kobra’s questioning expression. “It’s a piece of blanket.”  
“Jet?” Kobra frowned; something had clearly disturbed him.  
“Come on, can you walk? Crawl? We have to move.”  
“I’m okay,” Kobra confirmed as he readied himself to head off. “But…”  
“Let’s go.”

Kobra frowned again. Clearly Jet didn’t want to talk about what had happened, he could wait.

*

The Memory Chamber was a daunting sight and the draculoids holding Party in their firm grip had made sure of removing the hood over his head. Party looked around, initially searching for the exit but the door to the room had been cleverly hidden somehow. No doubt a trick to make people feel even more helpless than they already did. As a gun was forced painfully into his neck, Party prepared himself for his restraining cuffs to be removed. He knew they wouldn’t shoot him; they probably wouldn’t even knock him out – Korse wanted him awake; he was certain. But to his extreme annoyance, before his hands were freed, his ankles were fastened firmly to the table with a simple arrangement of straps and buckles. Even if he could fight them off, he couldn’t run. He couldn’t see their faces behind their masks, but he was certain they were sneering at him. Just because he didn’t think he could escape, didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight.

The second the restraints were removed, Party lashed out, striking the draculoid holding the gun, sending him staggering backwards. The follow through of the angry punch unbalanced Party unexpectedly, not realising how automatically he would normally shift his feet, he swung his arm back to grab hold of the table. Swinging his head to the right as he felt his arm being seized and dragged toward one of the restraints, Party grimaced and, using the draculoid’s hold on him, pulled himself back upright and swung a left hook. He huffed in frustration as his arm was caught mid-swing by the other draculoid returning after recovering from his first punch. Now with both men taking firm hold of his arms, and one already fastening the strap around his right wrist, he knew the fight was lost – for now.

Party could hear a light chuckle coming from inside one of the draculoid masks as they continued to fasten buckle after buckle. Finally certain that Party was unable to move, one of them reached up and lifted a previously unseen head piece that was pulled down onto Party’s head and clamped firmly to the table. He couldn’t see what it was but it felt like a ring of steel that completely encircled his forehead. It was perhaps lucky that he couldn’t see the holes punched at regular intervals throughout the device, nor the long needles, poised around them, each attached to a glass vial containing one of a variety of coloured liquids. But, it was as if they could read his mind and, if only to exacerbate his fears, the table was suddenly tilted back to leave him horizontal. Above him, a mirror now positioned only about four feet above him, showed him his predicament in detail. Terrified of needles anyway, this was one of the cruellest situations he could find himself in and despite his best attempts to remain defiant, the expression in his eyes and the glistening of beads of sweat on his forehead gave him away.

Fear was an important factor of the memory removal process. It had been recognised for many years that long-term memory, sense of identity and primary emotional responses such as fear were all processed within the temporal lobe of the brain and that manipulating one would have an increased effect on the others. It had been a connection that BLI had taken advantage of on many occasions.

Once inside the Memory Chamber few ever emerged as little more than pliant BLI drones. Most of the time BLI didn’t care how the treatments affected the poor souls they destroyed but today was different. Today they had Party Poison and Korse had very specific plans for him.

By the time Korse walked into the Memory Chamber, the draculoids were just stepping back from the table upon which Party had been restrained. Looking down at his prisoner, Korse took his time, at first merely staring and smiling. It wasn’t a pleasant smile, but the smile of a man considering how cruel to be. How to inflict the most damage, the most suffering. Party looked up, his eyes reflecting the fear he felt. Losing his memories seemed worse than death. Korse had promised to return him to the museum, but Party knew just from looking up into his eyes that he had no intention of doing that. Well, if he was going to lose his memories, or even die, he was going to get some answers first.

“Why did you change your name?” Party finally managed to force out, despite his anguish.


	18. Why Remember?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A painful childhood memory resurfaces

“Hmm,” Korse seemed to roll the sound around on his tongue as he thought about Party’s question. “Dismissed,” he barked at the two draculoids. “I’ll call if I need you.”

Korse watched silently as the two men left the room, leaving him alone with the captive Killjoy fastened securely to the table. Attaching a clip onto one of Party’s fingers, Korse, looked at one of the monitors displaying a slightly erratic line travelling across the centre of the screen and nodded silently to himself.

“So, you remember that do you?”

Party gasped at the reply.

“You’re seriously asking me that?”  
“Well, I guess memory removing technology has moved on a great deal since you were a child.”

Party swallowed as he suddenly recalled the traumatic memory from his childhood that he had thus far successfully repressed. Korse smiled as he noticed the change in Party’s demeanour followed by a short spike on a monitor.

“Ah,” Korse gave a sly smile. “A new memory, Gerard?”  
“My name is Party Poison!” Party screamed, eliciting only a smirk from Korse.  
“Shall we see what your memory was?”  
“What?” Party replied weakly.

The briefest glimpse of the memory had been enough to drain the blood from his cheeks. If there was one thing he knew beyond all doubt, he did not want to experience the memory again.

“No,” Party continued. “That’s not possible.”

Korse’s smile grew crueller as he revelled in Party’s uncertainty and fear.

“Oh, but it is. I told you the technology had moved on. You’ve been out of Battery City and BLI for a long time, Gerard.”  
“Stop calling me Gerard!” Party yelled again. “You have no right!”  
“And why is that?” Korse laughed spitefully.

Party swallowed several times, angry with himself for losing his temper and giving Korse something of what he wanted – his past.

“I know you remember me killing your father, Gerard,” Korse leaned in, mocking him with his fixed smile. “We tried to remove that memory from you and Mikey. It seems we weren’t entirely successful. But we can always try again, but this time, you’ll lose a lot more. Oh, and, so will he.”

Party strained on the restraining straps, but he could barely move. His clenched fists and expression of fury being two of the tell-tale signs of his distress.

“Don’t you dare touch him! I’ll kill you Korse! I’ll kill you!”  
“You’d kill your own family?” he laughed in response.  
“You’re not family! You ceased to be family when you killed my dad!”  
“You cannot deny who I am, Gerard and what I mean to you.”  
“You mean nothing to me!” Party screamed, his voice hoarse with raw emotion. “You kissed up to BLI, sold your soul, changed your name and killed your own brother! You’re nothing to me!”

The distress in Party’s eyes seemed only to delight BLI’s Chief Exterminator. Against his will, they began to sting sharply and Party knew that tears were welling in them. It wasn’t for his pain or even for the past, but for Mikey’s… No! For Kobra’s safety. Screwing his eyes up in his anguish, Party’s tears began to spill involuntarily down the sides of his cheeks as he strained uselessly in an attempt to break free.

“Let’s have a look at both those memories, shall we?”

Pressing a button began a whirr of noise as a hydraulic engine hummed. At first, Party couldn’t quite work out what was happening until, in the mirror, he saw the semi-circle of needles surrounding the head restraint retract, filling their chambers with whichever fluid occupied the individual wells. Slowly, the ring of needles moved closer until they pressed against Party’s forehead and temples.

His eyes flew open in horror as all his muscles stiffened in dread; his terrified screams could be heard in the corridor accompanied by Korse’s laughter.

“Now then, _Party Poison_ ,” Korse spat the words, “let’s have a look at those memories, shall we?”

No matter what Party did, nothing proved successful. No amount of pulling, writhing, nor even a desperate attempt to move his head away from the needles all pressing against his skin – nothing allowed him any movement. Korse could see the desperation in his eyes and raising the remote so that Party could see, he pressed three buttons in sequence. Party squeezed his eyes shut in terror as three of the needles pierced his skin and injected a pre-set amount of the drugs held in their chambers. Grimacing as his mind was suddenly awash with confusing lights, colours and sounds, Party knew that whatever was about to happen, he couldn’t stop it.

*

Fun Ghoul groaned weakly as he was dropped heavily onto the bed with such force that the mattress fell and rose enough to make it seem as if he had bounced. Even though his eyes were still closed, the small movements and murmurings gave away that he was close to waking. Pulling a short length of rope from a pocket inside his jacket, Sorby wrapped it quickly around Ghoul’s ankles and, pulling it tight, fastened it quickly with a double knot. Once that was done, he reached for the black metal collar that was currently attached to his belt and opening it up, quickly snapped it around Ghoul’s neck. Inserting a chip into the locking mechanism before closing the clasp firmly.

As he moved back, Ghoul’s eyes flew open and he stared up at Sorby in alarm. Moving quickly to race from the room, Ghoul had hit the floor before he realised his ankles were bound and Sorby was already leaving the room. Reaching down, Ghoul worked frantically at the knot before freeing himself and scrambling to his feet.

Sorby had already left the room and was merely standing, watching just outside. Ghoul glowered angrily; he would regret that decision. Ghoul knew he was small, but he was strong and angry – a formidable combination in his experience. Racing for the doorway, Ghoul hit what felt like an electrically charged brick wall, throwing him backwards into the room. Landing over six feet from the door, Ghoul groaned as he counted his still twitching limbs. Slowly pushing himself up onto his elbows, he looked up to see Sorby laughing at him from the doorway.

“Welcome to Miss Hart’s personal quarters. You are in one of her guest rooms.”  
“Except I’m not a guest, am I?” Ghoul snapped.  
“On the contrary,” Sorby smirked. “Miss Hart is very happy to have you stay.”  
“Okay, I’m not a willing guest and I can’t leave, can I?”  
“That is true,” Sorby nodded in reply. “My name is Sorby…”  
“I don’t give a single fuck who you are!”

Ghoul pushed himself to his feet, only now noticing the circle of metal around his neck. Putting his hands up to it, he searched for a lock, a catch, or some indication of how it had been attached. Finally finding the slight bump where the clasp of the locking mechanism was firmly fastened, Ghoul tugged ineffectually, grasping at either side in an attempt to open the collar.

“Don’t bother trying to remove it. It’s an electromagnetic lock and, while the perimeter is activated, pulling at it will make no difference at all.”  
“What is it?” Ghoul growled bitterly as he edged slowly and with some trepidation toward the door again.  
“It’s good to see you’ve learned your lesson,” Sorby smirked, enjoying Ghoul’s helpless frustration. “Like one of Pavlov’s dogs.”

Ghoul’s eyes flared with fury at the words and he immediately moved to run forward in anger, pulling himself up after only one or two steps to avoid another collision with the invisible electromagnetic field that had sent him reeling back to the floor only minutes earlier.

“I will end you, Sorby, mark my words.”

The words emerged in a flood of bitter loathing, aggravated further by a satisfied smirk that now settled on Sorby’s face. Taking a few more steps forward, Ghoul could feel the magnetic repulsion coming from the doorway and knew he would be unable to move any closer. The theory behind it was quite simple, but the technology actually quite advanced. Despite his anger, Ghoul found himself grudgingly impressed.

 

“The collar around your neck is programmed to prevent you going beyond a fixed perimeter. At the moment, that is this room, but later, when you’re settled, you might find Miss Hart gives you more freedom to move around. Obviously, during the day, you’ll be in the exhibition, of course. This,” he indicated to the room with his hand, “will just be for when the museum or the exhibition is closed.”  
“Oh, such favouritism,” Ghoul retorted, his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm.  
“When Miss Hart sets her mind on something, she usually gets it.”  
“Well, I’m not going to be one of those things!”  
“I think you’ll find that you already are and if I were you, I’d get used to it.”

Turning away, Sorby walked from the room, feeling Ghoul’s eyes burning into him. He had other things to do – he had to find Jet, Kobra and whoever that girl was. He was confident they would soon be back in their cells and once Party Poison was returned, they would have the complete set.

*

The large monitor lowered from its housing in the ceiling of the Memory Chamber now hung roughly at the same height as the mirror, but instead of directly above, was positioned over Party Poison’s feet, affording him a direct view. Due to its size and position, it was actually difficult for him not to look at it. One of the drugs, he realised already had paralysed his eyelids, forcing him to stare, unblinking at the screen. As the first memory began to play on the monitor, he realised that he didn’t have to concern himself with his eyes drying out at being forced open – his own tears would soon rectify that little problem.

The scene showed a typical family apartment in Battery City, two small boys playing happily in one corner and two men, one grey-haired with glasses, the other younger and bald, arguing in the centre of the room

 _“What is this, Grant?” Don Way waved the letter in his hand at his brother. “Some sort of joke?”_  
_“Dad, look!” the small, dark-haired, ten-year-old boy called excitedly from under the table in the corner of the room._

_Don spared a glance toward his two sons playing nearby. Both wore capes fashioned from towels and cardboard cut-out masks coloured messily in bright red, green, blue and yellow. He couldn’t help but share a smile with his eldest son, Gerard; he was never happier than when he was playing at being superheroes with his younger brother, Mikey._

_“Who are you today, Gerard?” Don asked, momentarily ignoring the man standing in front of him._  
_“Raygun Jones,” the boy grinned, extending his hand as if it were a gun and making ‘zapping’ noises._  
_“Ooh, be careful, Gerard, you nearly got me then!” Don laughed. “What about you, Mikey? Who are you?”_  
_“I’m Snake Boy!” he giggled, flopping down onto his belly and pretending to slither along the floor, almost pulling his t shirt out of shape as the friction from the carpet held it in place._  
_“Snake Boy only has one weakness!” Gerard cried loudly. “Tickling!”_

_Gerard’s excited laughter mixed harmoniously with Mikey’s helpless giggles as he dug his hands into his brother’s sides and tickled him furiously until he was breathless and gasping. Falling forward and rolling to lie on his back as Mikey sat up, pulling irregular breaths in sharply. Despite Mikey’s still obvious amusement, it became clear to Gerard that he had been overenthusiastic and he rose immediately, handing his younger brother his inhaler and rubbing small comforting circles on his back._

_Don smiled at the sight; they were so close and always looked out for each other._

_Grant, impatient and tired of waiting, took his brother by the elbow and steered him to the back of the room._

_“This isn’t a request, Don, don’t you understand?”_  
_“I’m not interested in working for BLI,” Don shook his head. “I have a job.”_  
_“Not anymore, you don’t.”_  
_“What are you talking about? Not anymore?” Don frowned deeply at Grant. “What have you done?”_  
_“I haven’t done anything!” Grant objected vehemently. “BLI employ entire families, you know that.”_  
_“What, so now you’ve signed up to their brainwashing, we all have to?” Don was furious and struggling to hide it in front of his sons._

_Gerard looked up and frowned lightly, giving his father a brief wave and a smile._

_“It’s not brainwashing!” Grant replied through gritted teeth. “It’s training, indoctrination.”_  
_“It’s brainwashing and propaganda!” he fumed. “Why can’t you see that?”_  
_“You sound like you’ve been talking to rebels,” Grant scowled angrily._  
_“You mean people who just want to get on with their lives?”_  
_“There are four acceptable levels of existence,” Grant began to explain._  
_“I’ve heard them called ‘four acceptable levels of death’.”_

_Grant scowled angrily, but there was something underlying his anger. It looked like fear,_

_“As you begin to purify and…”_  
_“Can you hear yourself talk?” Don interrupted. “Purify? This isn’t an organisation it’s a cult!”_  
_“Dad?” Gerard was standing near to the two men now, neither having heard him approach. “Is everything okay?”_

_Don looked down; his son appeared nervous, possibly distressed at the raised voices. Thankfully, Mikey seemed oblivious and had gone back to adding yet more colour onto his already garish mask._

_“Everything’s fine, Gerard,” he ruffled his son’s hair. “Uncle Grant and I are just talking grown-up stuff. Go help Mikey with his colouring.”_

_Gerard nodded, still uncertain but not wanting to be any trouble. He had noticed that recently his father and uncle had begun to argue a lot lately. He hoped it wouldn’t happen to him and Mikey as they got older – no, he decided, they would always be close. Returning to sit with Mikey, Gerard kept one ear on the conversation on the other side of the room; there was something about it that troubled him._

_“Look, Don, this is not up for discussion,” Grant continued. “You work for BLI now. I’m here to finalise the family’s transition.”_

_Grant took his brother firmly by the shoulders and looked into his eyes._

_“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation,” he began, giving Don a gently shake before lowering his arms. I’m not here to convince you, I’m here to take you to BLI. It’s my job.”_  
_“What job?”_  
_“I’m an exterminator. I help keep BLI and Battery City perfect.”_

_Don Way shook his head in a combination of sadness, anger and sheer disbelief._

_“Perfect? I’m not working for BLI!” he snapped gritting his teeth._  
_“If you don’t come with me, all of you,” he tipped his head to indicate that he also meant the children, “I’m authorised… I’m ordered to commit you to the fourth level of existence.”_  
_“The fourth level… I never thought I’d ever say this, Grant, but I want you out of my home. How dare you come in here…”_

_Pulling out his gun from its holster, Grant stared at his brother with an expression that suddenly bordered on vacant, even cold. Don frowned deeply with uncertainty and the abrupt pause in the conversation drew Gerard’s attention once more; his eyes widening with surprise as he saw the gun in Uncle Grant’s hand._

_“What are you going to do, Grant? Kill us all?”_  
_“No, we can indoctrinate the children.”_

_Don’s eyes flew open in a wild fury at the suggestion that his own brother could be suggesting taking his boys to BLI to be programmed._

_“Get out!” he raged, moving forward to push Grant towards the door._

_A blinding white-hot flash of light filled the room and Gerard found himself scrambling to his feet as his father was falling to the floor._

_“No!”_

_The sudden movement and the horror in Gerard’s tone drew Mikey’s attention and the younger boy was now also on his feet, clinging to Gerard, as he looked with fear and uncertainty at the lifeless body of their father._

_“Gee?” Mikey began in a small voice._  
_“It’s… How can…” Gerard’s young mind, having witnessed his father’s murder at the hands of his uncle, was beyond confused._

_Torn between running to his father’s side and comforting Mikey, Gerard was startled as Uncle Grant turned sharply, staring harshly at the two boys as he replaced his gun in its holster. There was something glacial in his stare that terrified Gerard; this was suddenly not the man he knew. This man was a stranger._

_Gerard shrank back, hugging Mikey protectively as Grant moved quickly towards them. Pulling free, Mikey ran forward toward his father and Gerard’s eyes widened in panic at the idea of the six-year-old finding their father dead. It was almost a blessing when Grant stopped him, but the horror of the fact that he was the murderer did nothing to make Gerard feel that Mikey was any safer._

_“Let him go!” he yelled as he saw Mikey’s pained expression as Grant gripped his arm painfully tight._

_Without even a word, Grant seized Gerard by an arm and, pulling them apart, dragged them both towards the door._

_“No! Let go!” Gerard screamed as he pulled frantically against the firm grip, twisting his body to look back into the room, desperate for his father to still be alive. Searching for any sign of life in the still and silent body. “Dad!” he cried as his vision misted over._

*

The monitor flickered and the picture darkened and faded. Only the sounds of Party’s heart rending sobs pierced the silence.

If they were trying to break him, they were doing a good job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry :(


	19. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in years, Jet retrieves a long forgotten memory

Fun Ghoul flopped heavily back onto the bed and, turning his back to the wall, buried his head in the pillow. There was a part of him that just wanted to give up and sleep forever. His beloved Party had been taken to BLI by Korse. Despite his assurances to Evelyn, Ghoul knew that he had no intention of returning him to the museum, at least not with his mind intact if he did.

Jet, Kobra and Red had seen him apparently shot whilst trying to escape. He still didn’t know how she had done it, but from the range he was hit they would almost certainly believe him to be dead. Worse still he had no doubt that both Sorby and Evelyn would confirm it if questioned. If so, would they escape and leave him behind? He knew Kobra needed to get as far from that woman as possible so she could no longer torture him with the governor she had implanted.

They would also want to rescue Party, of course. If they believed him dead, they might easily leave him rather than slow themselves down with a body. A live Party was more important than a dead Ghoul.

And finally, he was locked in the private apartments of a woman he hated who wanted him in ways he knew he could never deliver. Drawing his legs up to his chest, his shoulders sagged as he forced himself to release the pent-up tension in his pain-racked body. He wasn’t sure if he would ever see his friends or Party again. Despite his misery, he was trying not to give up hope, but it seemed so far out of reach.

Closing his eyes, he drifted into a disturbed sleep but he was certain that none of the worst things he imagined could come close to what was happening to Party.

*

Having dragged her to a far corner of the room and used her belt to tie her hands, Little Red leaned over Evelyn and slapped her repeatedly across the face. By the time she finally came to, her cheeks were red, slightly swollen and sore.

“About time too!” she hissed. “Now then, if you scream or make any move to alert anyone, I will snap your neck. And don’t think I can’t do it. I trained in martial arts at BLI under none other than Kobra Kid, so you know I can, if you give me reason to. Got it?”

Evelyn merely nodded silently; despite her diminutive size, there was something about Red’s presence and assured aggression that seemed to fill the room.

“Now, talk, quietly. What have you done with Fun Ghoul?”  
“He’s dead,” she lied. “Even if you didn’t see, you heard me shoot him.”  
Red laughed lightly and shook her head. “No, I’m not buying it. I saw the way you looked at him before you shot. That was not a look of ‘Oh, no! My prisoner’s escaping.’ That was, ‘You’re mine and you’re going nowhere.’”  
“You’re imagining things,” Evelyn said dryly.  
“No, I’m not. If nothing else, after all the money you’ve sunk into this exhibition, you’re not going to kill one of your exhibits. Now, where is he?” Red pressed.

Evelyn merely glared back refusing to speak.

“Okay, if that’s how it’s going to be, I’ll just snap your neck and look for him,” Red replied nonchalantly, reaching toward Evelyn’s head.  
“No!” she cried, pulling back. “If you do, you’ll never find him.”  
“Oh, I highly doubt that.” Red chuckled. “But at least you’ve confirmed that he is alive. Now, is he hurt?”  
“Of course not, just a bit weak, maybe.”  
“Right, you’re going to take me to him.” Red pulled her to her feet. “Oh, and if I find that your device has in any way harmed Kobra, I will still snap your neck. In fact, I’ll twist your head right off! Do you understand me?”

Evelyn nodded unhappily. Damn Jet and this girl! Damn Candi and Ice! Had they double-crossed them for the money? If they had, then when this was over, they would be dead.

Reluctantly, Evelyn silently led Red through the maze of corridors towards her private quarters. The hope of meeting one of the museum’s guards dwindling the closer they got to her own suite of rooms. The museum was far too large for the few guards to cover all the ground and so most would have headed for the exits to make sure no one escaped. Only a small contingent patrolled the halls waiting to find the escaped Killjoys before calling in the others to close the net. In theory it should have worked, but the Killjoys were much more familiar with this game of cat and mouse to be captured so easily.

*

Kobra tapped Jet’s arm lightly as a familiar figure walked by. His gun drawn, Sorby stalked the corridors and rooms helping with the search. Kobra made a move forward, only to be held back by Jet’s firm grip.

“You sure you’re strong enough?” he whispered.

Kobra nodded his reply; the absolute certainty and hatred set in his eyes made Jet release him immediately. Kobra looked as though he had never been more ready. Jet raised an eyebrow, impressed by the younger man’s stealth as he approached Sorby soundlessly. Jet’s eyes flew open in astonishment as not only was he ready, but Kobra leapt up apparently effortlessly before delivering two separate kicks with both feet to Sorby’s back before landing silently.

Sorby received both kicks in almost the exact same spot in the centre of his back, just at the base of his lungs, driving the air from them. Crumpling immediately to his knees, Sorby gasped for breath, disorientated and in pain. He wasn’t even aware of Kobra’s presence until he placed a hand around his throat, dragging him backwards and down, forcing him back over his calves, rendering him unable to move except his arms, which for now merely flailed at his side in his distress.

“Where’s Ghoul?” Kobra snapped.

Despite the danger of his predicament, Sorby was determined remain loyal to Evelyn, at least he would try.

“Dead,” he choked out. “You saw her shoot him.”

Both Kobra and Jet faltered momentarily. Without the advantage of a female perspective where Red had seen more behind Evelyn’s eyes than a clinical need to prevent his escape, they had no reason to doubt his word. That had been exactly what they had both witnessed, but both had prayed that their eyes had deceived them in some way.

“Wrong answer,” Kobra growled dragging Sorby, still by the neck, into a nearby exhibition room. “Get up!”

Sorby was uncertain; was it safer to stay put or to do as he was told? The expression burning on Kobra’s face told him everything he needed to know. Pushing himself slowly to his feet, and still struggling to breathe easily, he was barely standing for a moment before Kobra delivered a roundhouse kick that physically lifted the man from the floor and deposited him some six feet back from where he had been standing.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side!” Jet’s expression hung somewhere between shocked and impressed and he absently scratched the side of his head, his fingers part disappearing into his hair.

Without a word, Kobra moved forward only to be stopped by Jet placing a hand on his chest.

“He’s out cold and you’re still recovering.”

Jet made sense, but Kobra hated that sometimes. This man had just told them that their friend, his brother’s boyfriend, was dead. Kobra wanted blood.

“I just wanna…”  
“I know,” Jet now placed his left hand on Kobra’s chest beside the right and shook his head.

Jet stared into Kobra’s eyes and inside them he saw the same immeasurable sadness reflected back. Kobra desperately wanted to make Sorby suffer for what he had done, but more now would serve no purpose but to exhaust his already weakened body and possibly draw attention. Kobra’s shoulders dropped and he looked away, no longer able to view the depth of pain in his friend’s eyes. Suddenly pulled forward, Kobra went easily into Jet’s arms as they briefly comforted each other at the loss of their friend.

“Come on,” Jet choked out, patting Kobra’s back before breaking the hug. “Let’s find Red. We need to get Party out of BLI before we lose him too.”

As the two men stepped apart, the sound of laser fire drew their attention. Heading toward the door, they spotted two guards firing high, some sort of warning shot, maybe? But why? Drawing his gun, Jet dispatched the first easily then fired quickly again before the second had chance to react.

“Jet?” a familiar voice called.

Turning, Jet leaned out and peered into the corridor only to see the reason behind the guards aiming high. Holding onto Evelyn’s still bound wrists, Red had made a very small target behind her and the guards had taken no risks.

“Red,” Jet replied as he and Kobra stepped from the room. Immediately, Red could see that the pair were subdued and their eyes bloodshot.  
“What’s wrong?” she asked, pushing Evelyn forward once more.  
“You bitch!” Kobra screamed, racing toward Evelyn and slamming her against the wall.

Evelyn’s eyes briefly rolled back in her head as it struck the wall. Held up by Kobra’s strong hand around her throat, Evelyn now stared at him, terrified by the murderous rage in his eyes.

“You torture me, let Korse take Party and you ghost Ghoul! I’m going to take you apart slowly, piece by piece!” he yelled as Jet stood watch.  
“No, Kobra, she hasn’t,” Red placed a hand on Kobra’s shoulder, shaking him to get his attention.  
“What?” he asked, confused by the revelation.  
“But we saw her shoot him… And Sorby said…” Jet tilted his head, pausing as he searched Red’s expression for confirmation.  
“He’s still alive!” she nodded. “She told me.”  
“Sorby lied so we’d leave him with _her_? Is that what he thought we’d do?”  
“This one too,” Red pulled spitefully on the belt fastened firmly around Evelyn’s wrists. “But I got it out of her. She’s got him locked up in her suite. Thinks she can make him love her.”

Kobra gave a sneering laugh at the idea.

“You honestly thought that, did you,” Kobra shook his head.  
“No man has ever refused me,” she replied haughtily.  
“I bet Ghoul did,” he chuckled again.  
“Temporary resistance, that’s all,” she shook off his condescension. “Stubbornly trying to hold onto his freedom.”  
“Well, you know if you have to lock someone up, they’re really not that into you. And just so you know: Ghoul? You’re not his type,” Kobra smirked at her lack of understanding.

Jet levelled his gun squarely at Evelyn’s head whilst he spoke.

“Oh,” Jet glowered menacingly, “if it turns out that it’s actually you who’s lying and he is dead, we’re all going to take turns killing you in our own very special ways.”

Kobra offered Jet a sidelong glance; he had never seen him so obviously threatening before. Yes, he could get angry. And yes, no one would ever want to be on his bad side, but this was different. Was this entirely about Ghoul, or was he still upset about whatever that piece of cloth was?

“Jet?” Kobra began only to be immediately cut off.  
“Take us to Ghoul, and no tricks,” Jet ordered, glaring harshly at Evelyn. “Don’t forget, we’re all just a hair’s breadth away from killing you… painfully.”  
“Move, bitch!” Kobra added spitefully, glowering threateningly.

Evelyn nodded in defeat as Kobra pushed her forward. She had mocked them earlier for their supposed ill-deserved reputation, but she knew she had spoken much too soon. Right now, they had the advantage and she honestly couldn’t see them relinquishing it. The best she could hope for at the moment was that she would survive.

"Jet?" Red enquired, lagging behind, as Kobra continued to shove Evelyn forward down the corridor. "Do you have my piece of blanket?"  
"Yeah," he nodded still staring ahead, "it's in my pocket. Do you want it now?"  
"Umm, no, it's okay," she began hesitantly. "You're distant again," she ventured. "Like you were in the car after... when we were coming here. Where do you go?"

It was a subtler question than 'are you okay?' which would have been much easier to brush off. Jet swallowed before taking a deep breath. Part of him really wasn't sure how to answer, there were so many gaps and uncertainties. 

"You remember I told you about the accident when I was a kid?"  
"Yeah?" Red encouraged.   
"Well, Doc told me that the electromagnetism in the spike mine that the car hit, or vice versa, had probably scrambled my memory. There's a lot I don't remember and, by extension, things that I don’t know that I don’t know. If you see what I mean?"  
"You mean you know that there are memories you can’t access, but there may be memories you’re not even aware are missing?" Red clarified, happy when Jet nodded. "Have you remembered one? Or do you think you might have?"

Jet exhaled almost sadly before looking down at the woman beside him; he almost seemed to be examining her and his brow creased as he did. 

"I don't know. I wish I could be sure," he admitted. "Can I ask, what is that bit of blanket you carry around?"

Red frowned; Jet seemed very private at times and now here he was again, just on the edge of a memory and he was changing the subject. It was tempting to refuse to answer - she could be private too. But, what would that achieve? He lived with with three other guys; talking about anything other than cars and guns probably wasn't something he was used to. Besides, no one had, for a very long time, shown any interest in engaging her on a personal level as Jet had done frequently since they met. Yes, there had been sexual encounters, but whilst they had been fun, there was nothing truly meaningful to look back on and there hadn’t been for some time. She had preferred it that way, but now? Maybe it was time to open up a little?

"My mom made it for me," she answered, smiling at the memory.   
"Made it?" Jet replied, his eyes wide with surprise. 

Fishing the still slightly damp cloth from his pocket, he stared at the design. A piece of what was once cream coloured blanket with red, smiley-faced stars embroidered carefully, even professionally on to it. 

"It... it wasn't bought like this?" he asked.  
"Well, the blanket was, but mom embroidered it. She was really good too. She made a red one for me and a blue one for my brother."

Jet halted immediately, his heart racing, his head light. Lifting a shaking hand to his mouth, he leaned back against the wall breathing heavily, almost gasping for breath. 

"Jet?" Red cried in alarm. "Kobra! Something's wrong!"

Kobra turned and seeing the concern on her face, immediately looked at Jet and understood why. He was trembling and pale; he appeared as though he might pass out at any moment. Shoving Evelyn back against the wall and to the floor, Kobra moved quickly to Jet’s side.

“Watch her,” he pointed to Evelyn whilst addressing Red.

The words sounded abrupt but Red knew he was just worried for his friend. As an added security measure, Red forced the woman to lie face down on the floor. With her arms still bound behind her, there was no way she could quickly get to her feet to escape. Red also enjoyed the additional bonus of piling on the humiliation for what she had done to all of them.

“Jet?” Kobra began softly. “What’s wrong?”  
“I…” Jet put his hand to his forehead and noticed for the first time that his eyes had misted and closing them caused his lashes to dampen. “I think… I've sort of remembered something.”

Red looked up. From what he had said earlier, he hadn't remembered anything new for years. This was huge, but what had triggered it?

“What?” Kobra smiled, hoping it was a good memory; they needed something positive. So many unpleasant and depressing things had happened to all of them for far too long. “What is it?”  
“I don’t know,” Jet complained. “Not really. I’ve more… well I think I've worked something out, but I still don’t actually remember.”  
“Jet, you're not making sense, man,” Kobra frowned, frustrated by the lack of information. “Out with it!”

Jet pursed his lips and looked over at Red.

"Red?" He began shakily and taking a deep breath. "Was your brother's name Ray?"

Kobra’s eyes almost popped at the question and its significance.

"Yes!" She cried elated as the memory flooded back. Beaming broadly, she continued: "How did you know?"

Reaching into a zipped inner pocket, Jet withdrew a small piece of cloth. It was old, grubby and tatty, but still very much intact. A piece of blanket with blue smiley-faced stars embroidered on it.

Red's eyes suddenly widened and her lips parted in shock, as she looked from the blanket piece to Jet’s eyes, now brimming with tears.

“Ray?” Her voice barely registered above a whisper, the word almost sticking in her throat as her mouth dried.

Her answer was an almost imperceptible nod and in less than a blink of an eye, Jet was pulling her into his arms, holding her close as if he was afraid to let go. Both of them found themselves struggling to breathe with the enormity of the realisation.

“She’s your _sister_?” Kobra asked quietly.

It was a rhetorical question but Jet nodded anyway, his face buried deep into her hair. Kobra was dumbfounded; he hadn't even been aware that Jet had a sister, but then, neither had Jet. 

“Well,” Kobra shook his head. “Fuck me sideways and call me Sally!”


	20. Korse reveals his plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are looking pretty desperate for poor Party as Korse let's him know what he has planned for him

Party Poison groaned quietly as he came to. It had not been the first time that he had woken up groggy and weak recently but it was by far the worst. His head ached, his throat felt sore, dry and scratchy, his eyes felt very much as if they were bloodshot and due to lack of repeat doses of Ademen, his lung infection was starting to reappear. In short, he was ill, weak and vulnerable. Of the three, it was the third he feared most.

He wanted very much to open his eyes and find himself back in his own room in the rundown motel suite that attached to the diner. There was no air conditioning, no running water and the furnishings had seen better days - much better days - but it would be paradise compared with what he was waking to. Party’s heart sank as he opened his swollen, puffy eyes and, in the mirror above him, he saw that he was still strapped to the table inside the Memory Chamber. To his deep regret, a strangled and desperate sound forced its way from his throat. It was purely instinctual and involuntary but it was loud enough for the man sitting nearby to hear it and almost immediately Party heard the sound of deep, mocking laughter.

“Oh dear, Gerard,” Korse shook his head as he rose to stand next to him. “Did you really think you would wake somewhere else? In your desert hideout with your friends, perhaps? You won't ever wake up there again. And what of your lover?”

Party’s eyes flicked over to Korse in horror. What did he know? Was Ghoul all right? Did he have him too?

“Oh, yes,” Korse laughed. “'I know all about her.”

Party looked away, trying hard to stop the smile on his face from showing. Korse was fishing; he knew nothing.

“Tell me, Korse, what do you know?” He croaked, only now realising the extent that his mouth and throat were parched and raw.  
Korse laughed cruelly. “Oh, poor Gerard, your voice has been ruined from screaming. And do you know what? Your ordeal is far from over. There is one more memory I need to view, and a few more recent ones.”  
“What are you doing, Korse?” Party frowned. “If you're not erasing my memories, what do you want from me?”  
“Now if I told you that, it wouldn't be fun anymore, would it?”  
“Fun?” Party snapped. “You're sick, Korse, you know that?”  
“I am merely performing my role to the highest standard, and if that means torturing the occasional Zone Rat, then that's exactly what I'll do.”  
“But I'm not just any Zone Rat, am I?” Party reminded him.  
“Are you now acknowledging me as your uncle, Gerard? I didn’t think you were anywhere near as broken as all that.”  
“No,” he began stiffly, somehow mustering a defiant glare. “I’m Party Poison, leader of the Fabulous Killjoys. All the Zone Dwellers look to us for help and inspiration and we will defeat you and bring BLI crashing down!”

Korse offered a smile that bordered on pity but was plainly mocking his prisoner.

“It is that very inspiration that I will take from you. What will you do, I wonder, when no one looks to you any more? When your name is reviled? When even your fellow rebels disown you to save their own reputations?”  
“That’s never going to happen, Korse!” Party growled. “I don’t know how you think you’re going to achieve that, but you're wasting your time. If you kill me, I'll only inspire more to come after me. We will bring you down!”  
“I admire your confidence, Gerard. Few would manage such brave words while in your position.” Korse leaned closer, lifting the remote in his hand and pressing two buttons. “But lets see how confident you are after this, shall we?”

Party stiffened as he saw two of the syringes pull back, filling their vials before advancing once more, piercing his skin and flooding him with their toxic contents.

“I will kill you, Korse! I promise you!” Party managed before being overtaken by the pain from the drugs.

The last thing he heard before slipping into his memory was Korse’s harsh laughter ringing in his ears.

*

_Gerard and Mikey were huddled close to each other, sitting on the floor in the corner of the white, sparsely furnished room. Both had been forced to change into a set of basic white overalls and their watches, shoes and socks removed also. Gerard had tried hard to keep a sense of time passing, but with no daylight to guide him, he had soon lost track. He had been too concerned with taking care of Mikey to care too much about the time. Mikey had started crying shortly after Uncle Grant had left them alone in the small room. Gerard had managed to block out his own pain to comfort his brother; rocking the terrified six-year-old boy gently in his lap. He had told him over and over that everything would be all right and not to worry. Despite what Gerard knew were obvious lies, Mikey eventually cried himself to sleep, lying comfortably in his brother’s arms._

_Until now, Gerard had contained his emotions, keeping them hidden from Mikey so as not to scare him even more than he already was. But now, the barrier was down and Gerard’s tears flowed freely. He had witnessed his uncle murder their father. That had been bad enough, but in the car on the way to the giant building with the huge smiley face decorating two of its outer walls, their uncle had explained what awaited them. He had spoken quite softly to them, but there was a coldness both in his words and tone that scared the two boys._

_He had explained that, because they were now alone in the world, BLI would raise them, look after them and turn them into happy, productive citizens. Mikey hadn't understood the implications of his words, but Gerard knew that what he was essentially telling them was that their mother had also been murdered. How could he tell his six-year-old brother that their uncle had murdered both their parents? He had also explained that they would be able to keep their names, but on the rare occasions they would see him in the future, they were now to address him as Exterminator Korse._

_Gerard had wanted to ask why, but was afraid that whatever the reason, it would upset Mikey. Besides, he himself wasn't certain of his ability to even utter a single word without either of them hearing the pain and terror in his voice. Noticing his hands trembling, Gerard knew that his voice would almost certainly be reacting in the exact same way. He felt numb, weak, bewildered and desperately unhappy. But all that had to go on hold, he had to be strong for Mikey and he prayed they would be allowed to stay together._

_His hopes were shattered in an instant as a man - he couldn’t say for certain but he guessed at the gender - entered the room. Dressed head to toe in white, and wearing a hood with a smiley face printed on it, the man approached the pair and wrenched Mikey from Gerard’s grasp. Horrified, Gerard scrambled to his feet as his shocked brother looked back wide-eyed and on the verge of tears once more._

_“No!” Gerard cried, leaping forward and grabbing the man’s arm, trying to uncurl his fingers from his grip on Mikey. “'We want to stay together!”  
“Gee!” Mikey gasped, as he planted his feet trying to keep from being dragged out of the room._

_Without a sound, the man shoved Gerard in the chest, briefly forcing him backwards._

_"Let him go!” Gerard yelled, repeatedly thumping a fist as hard as he was able onto the man’s arm followed by a sharp kick to his knee. “Get your hands off him! We’re staying together!”  
“Gee! I want to stay with Gee!” Mikey screamed terrified, tears now streaming down his face._

_Not even bothering to reply, the anonymous man swung an arm, his fist colliding with Gerard’s jaw. It was a wonder it neither broke nor dislocated, but Gerard was aware of an explosion of pain as the force of the blow almost lifted the young boy off his feet. Spiralling to the left, Gerard spun away, crashing into the wall before sliding unconscious to the floor. Gerard was spared hearing Mikey’s fearful screams as he was dragged from the room before the door was once again locked. Later, Gerard would blame and berate himself for not being strong enough to protect his brother and prevent the cruel torture that had followed - memory erasure - some would say he never fully recovered from this particular trauma._

_The technology supporting memory erasure was still in its infancy, but the mind of the younger of the two brothers proved more malleable and could be shaped. He was eventually, after four treatments, forced to forget his parents and uncle. To Mikey, now he was just Korse with no link or connection. At age ten, however, the repeated painful injections and shock therapy seemed almost like medieval torture. Finally, exhausted and in fear of being broken, Gerard feigned similar memory loss to his brother. It was the only way to stop the pain, but it left him with a terrible phobia of needles, a burning need for revenge and a desperation to live in colour. One day when they were old enough to survive, Gerard vowed that they would escape Battery City with a determination to return, armed and ready, to avenge their family’s death._

*

Party sagged, exhausted and drained as the memory faded to black on the monitor. So tired was he that it wasn't until Korse approached and spoke that he realised that the memory was over.

“And now, Gerard…”  
“Party,” he croaked weakly.  
“Still not broken?” Korse raised an eyebrow. “I have to admit, I'm impressed.”  
“I don’t care,” Party managed, his voice now barely audible.  
Korse laughed cruelly. “Ah, but you do. You get your stubborn streak from your father.”  
“Don’t you dare speak about him,” Party found the words coming to him with difficulty. “You have no right.”  
“You’ll have to speak up, Gerard,” Korse laughed. “'I can hardly hear you.”  
“Go to hell!” Party hissed.  
“One last injection, Gerard and very soon, I will be finished torturing you. After that, you can go back to your cell and rot for all I care.”  
“What is it you want from me?” Gerard asked, more confused than ever.  
“I want your memories,” Korse smirked.

Party gasped and looked up in horror.

“No!” He almost pleaded. “Don’t take my memories.”  
“Oh, the great _Party_ _Poison_ , begging to retain his memories. Did I hear correctly?”  
“Leave me my memories or kill me, Korse,” Party sighed lowering his eyes. “One or the other.”  
Korse chuckled. “I have no need to take your memories, I’m just copying them. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

A section of the wall slid aside and Party heard footsteps approaching. Only when the figure stood alongside Korse did he realise the full horror of his situation. He gazed up at a facsimile of himself, perfect in every physical detail, even down to the partially amused smirk with which the figure regarded him.

“What is this?” Party’s voice shook with genuine concern. “Who’s he?”  
“He is you, of course,” Korse laughed at the panic in his prisoner’s eyes and other more subtle signs of his concern - his clenched fists and his tensed biceps and thighs as he strained against the straps.  
“You might as well relax, you won’t get free, ever! If your friends ever get free from the Hart museum, which I expect they will - my contact will ensure it, they will come here to try to free you. Of course, by then, your memories will be duplicated and housed inside this android replica. You will naturally be locked away, far from sight and your foolish friends will rescue your replica. But far from being a thorn in BLI’s side, he will kill rebels, steal from townships instead of supplying them. He will destroy the Killjoys name and reputation. Other rebels will have no one to look to, no leaders, no one to inspire them. Without you, your feeble group will fail and without the Killjoys, the Zones will crumble. Anyone who wants to live can return to BLI for re-indoctrination. Everyone else will die in a series of raids undertaken in your name. And you see, Party Poison, all of this will happen with your knowledge. You will witness it all and I will parade your replica as a shining beacon for BLI. You and your band of rebels will be disgraced. With any luck, they may even be murdered by Zone Rats, and if not, I’m certain I can arrange for it to happen. You see, Gerard, I will break you and in the most painful way possible. You will never see daylight, your friends, your brother or your girlfriend again! And all I need from you, are a few memories.”

Korse clicked another button on the remote and a single syringe advance on Party, injecting its contents. Trying desperately to fight its effects, Party stiffened, strained against the straps and screamed in agony as the drug seemed to constrict every nerve in his body.

“Oh yes, I forgot,” Korse laughed cruelly. “First, I have to weaken you just that little bit more. I expect you’ll survive the process, but if you don’t, it’s been a pleasure torturing you.”

Party tried hard to hold onto his thought processes, not to fight the drug, but to work with it. He had no idea if his idea was even possible, but he had one chance and one chance only. He just prayed he would remain strong enough. In bleak desperation, he clung to his clouding mind; he had to hold on. He just had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you're still enjoying this. If so, please do drop a comment. It's always good to hear from you. Sas xo


	21. The Party's Over?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescuing Ghoul and has Party survived his ordeal in the Memory Chamber?

It seemed an age that Kobra was standing, simply watching as brother and sister, separated by BLI and memory loss, found each other once more. It had been a very long time since he’d seen Jet cry. It wasn’t necessarily that it didn’t happen; there was more than enough sadness and pain in this life to warrant it, but Jet was usually so very private, if he had cried, no one would have seen it. Kobra had the strangest feeling that the emotional sibling reunion was something that he had experienced personally, but he simply couldn’t imagine how - he could not recall a time when he and Party were not together, but still there was that nagging feeling of recognition.

It was something he was reluctant to do, but it was necessary. They had to find Ghoul and they had to get out to rescue Party. That didn’t make this any easier.

“Jet?” He spoke quietly at first, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb them. “Jet?” He repeated, only slightly louder.

In the end, it was Red who heard him and rubbing Jet’s back briefly, she pulled back from the embrace.

“We should find Ghoul and get the hell out of here,” she said as if reading Kobra’s thoughts.  
“Yeah,” Jet choked out, running the heels of his hands over his eyes to wipe the tears away.  
“You okay, man?” Kobra asked.  
“Yeah,” Jet smiled broadly. “Best day ever.”

Kobra glanced down at Evelyn, still lying on the floor, but straining her neck to see what was happening. For all her coldness toward them, she was intrigued and fascinated by the reconnection. But after her treatment of him, Kobra was unforgiving.

“Up!” He instructed sharply.  
“Can you help me?” she asked, somewhat dejectedly.  
“I can,” Kobra snapped. “But I'm not going to.”

He watched with satisfaction as she struggled to stand. Eventually, Red took hold of her right arm to pull her up, but Kobra intervened.

“No,” he growled. “'Let her struggle.”  
“This is about rescuing Ghoul, not revenge,” she reminded him. “'Not yet,” she added to Evelyn’s distress.

Kobra nodded and reached down, practically pulling Evelyn to her feet.

“If I take you to Ghoul and let him go, will you let me live?”  
“You have no bargaining chips, Hart!” Kobra snapped. “Just take us to Ghoul and we’ll see how we feel based on how well he looks.”

Evelyn looked down; she desperately wished she had treated Kobra better, but she had thought the governor was her best option given his martial arts skills. She had simply not foreseen how it could count against her; she had grossly underestimated them. In truth, despite what she had done to him, to all of them, Kobra didn’t intend to harm her, but it suited him that she didn’t know that.

Five corridors later, Kobra, Jet and Red could see the sleeping form of Fun Ghoul lying on a bed. They couldn’t understand why he remained there despite there being no door. Was he chained? Familiar with electronic devices, Kobra was suspicious. The only thing he could see was a glint of metal around Ghoul’s neck.

“He’s chained?” Kobra asked angrily.  
“No,” Evelyn replied unhelpfully.  
“Well what’s keeping him in that room?” He demanded.  
“He’s unconscious,” Evelyn explained, not mentioning the electromagnetic field across the doorway, nor the device that prevented Ghoul from even reaching the exit.

Jet moved forward, accepting her words at face value; they seemed more than plausible.

“Ghoul!” He called, relieved to have found him relatively well and unhurt. “Ghoul, are you okay?”  
“Jet, no!” Kobra called as Jet approached the doorway, but it was too late.

As Jet crossed the threshold he sank to his knees, holding his temples and gasped for breath as the invisible waves coursed through his body. The sound of his screams woke Ghoul from his sleep and he sat bolt upright before leaping to his feet.

“Jet!” He cried, the frustration of knowing he couldn't even approach, because of the collar, now eating at him.  
“No!” Kobra yelled, catching Red around the waist as she tried to run to his assistance. “Switch it off!” Kobra demanded, as he held firmly to the still struggling young woman.  
“And if I don’t?” Evelyn snapped in return.  
“Try me,” Kobra growled moving his face close to hers, threateningly.  
“I can't, my hands are tied.”  
“Red!” Kobra turned her around and pushed her towards Evelyn. “She’s going to tell you how to switch off the power, do what she says.”  
“I don’t trust her,” Red was beginning to panic as Jet slumped forward to the floor.  
“She’ll do it right if she knows what’s good for her,” Kobra growled menacingly.

As the pair spoke, Ghoul was fighting the effects of the collar, desperate to reach Jet’s fallen form.

“Jet? Are you still conscious, man?”  
“Yeah,” Jet replied, that one word seriously slurred and gravelly.

Sliding to the floor, Ghoul kept his neck as far from the doorway as possible and extended a leg.

“Grab my foot, Jet,” Ghoul instructed. “Jet! Grab my foot!” He repeated as he made no move. “Switch that damn thing off!”

Still barely conscious, Jet almost threw his arm forward and closed his fingers around Ghoul’s ankle. The shorter and much slighter man pressed his palms into the floor, hoping for sufficient friction to help him haul Jet to safety, but despite his best efforts, his first attempt moved him only a few inches. Straining hard, he tried again, with more success this time.

“Come on!” He screamed in frustration, as he continued to pull him through the doorway. Suddenly, Ghoul fell forward as he realised that Jet had lost his grip on his ankle. “Jet! Please!”

Evelyn began to describe a sequence of buttons for Red to press, thinking slightly too long for comfort between each one.

“Faster!” Red snapped.  
“If I get the sequence wrong,” Evelyn smirked. “Well, who knows?”  
“ _I_ know!” Kobra levelled his gun against her head.  
“That gun’s dead,” Evelyn scoffed, “I took the battery out myself.”

Kobra raised it briefly and fired into the ceiling bringing a cloud of plaster raining down.

“Six, two, one, four,” she reeled off

Red quickly pressed the sequence of buttons. “There,” she exhaled deeply. “Has it stopped?”

Kobra looked down, Jet was clearly unconscious.

“Only one way to tell,” he announced as he grabbed Evelyn’s arm and dragged her over to the doorway. “Walk through!”

Evelyn paused, reluctant to move.

“Move!” Kobra shoved her forward.  
“No!” She shrieked pulling up short of the doorway.  
“You _are_ going through,” Kobra shoved his gun into her neck below the jawline. “So you better make damn sure it’s off first.”  
“Seven, two, nine.” She muttered in defeat.  
“Seven, two, nine,” Kobra called back to Red, who pressed the buttons immediately. “In!” Kobra snapped.

Evelyn walked through the now open doorway and Ghoul took that as his cue to pull Jet the remaining few feet. Turning him over and checking his breathing.

“He’s alive,” he gasped out with relief.

Red dropped to Jet’s side as the older man slowly opened his eyes. He looked pale and drained, but despite this, a smile broke out on his face.

“I remember you,” his voice barely above a whisper.  
“Jet?” Red’s voice shook as she grew increasingly worried. “I’m your sister, don’t forget me now.”  
“No, no,” Jet shook his head, as Ghoul’s eyes widened in surprise. “I mean it. I remember. Whatever that was, it’s triggered my memories. I remember you!”

Red threw herself across his chest, hugging him as if her life, or his, depended on it.

“Sister? I didn’t even know you had a sister!” Ghoul queried. “When did this happen?”  
“About twenty-four years ago,” Jet quipped, relishing his reinstated memories.  
“Smart ass!” Ghoul scowled. “Seriously, how?”  
“Well, when a mummy and a daddy love each other, they…”  
“Jet!”  
“It’s… I just remembered, Ghoul. We… I'll explain later, but yes, Red is my sister. Hey,” he lowered his eyes to look at the young woman still hugging him. “I’m okay,” Jet stroked her hair gently.  
“Don’t do that again!” She scolded, allowing him to sit up.  
“I won’t, I promise. Not now I’ve got family to look out for.”  
“Harsh, man!” Ghoul chuckled. “I thought we were your family.”  
Jet smiled as he got to his feet. “You can look after yourself!”  
“Are you kidding?” Red laughed. “This is the second time we’ve had to rescue him. He’s a real damsel in distress!”  
“As I recall, the only reason I didn’t escape the first time was because you were too busy acquainting yourself with Kid’s Kobra!”  
“Dude!” Jet snapped in mock horror.  
“We need to get out of here,” Kobra sighed, eager to set off to find Party. “We just need to deal with her.”  
“I want my belt back,” Red announced.  
“Well, I have an idea,” Ghoul grinned, removing the collar with ease now the perimeter field had been deactivated, before snapping it around Evelyn’s neck as Kobra held her still.  
“Do you know how to switch it back on again?” Jet asked.  
“Yeah,” Ghoul smirked as he unfastened the belt from around her wrists, “I watched Sorby do it.”  
“Right,” Kobra nodded, satisfied. “Let’s go.”

Evelyn sighed heavily as the four left, reactivating the electromagnetic field as they went. She had grossly underestimated them. Not only had she lost a lot of money, but BLI were certain to be angry that they had escaped. That was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

*

Party felt empty. As if his mind had been ransacked and left in complete disarray. Opening his eyes to more pain than he had ever felt in his life it was a few minutes before he realised he was back in his cell. Mentally he checked himself over, but found himself having to restart several times, such was the level of his confusion and utter exhaustion. He forgot what he was even checking for a number of times and even when he remembered it seemed to him that the slightest movement caused so much agony that he simply couldn't tell if anything was broken or otherwise badly damaged. It was the first time in a very long time that he wished that his eyes hadn’t opened. Trying to swallow the pain of the extreme sadness he felt seemed impossible, with his mouth as parched as the desert and his lungs screaming with infection once more. He was weak, exhausted, aching and nauseous, not to mention finding it difficult to even breathe. He felt very much alone and not even the thought of a possible rescue could raise his spirits. Korse had been more than clear on that - he was being held in the depths of nowhere but his android lookalike would be easily located and rescued. It had his memories, it looked just like him. They would rescue it thinking it to be him and they would leave. Worst of all, he was helpless to prevent it. By the time anyone realised that something was wrong, would it have killed them? Would it, as Korse wanted, ruin his reputation. Would everything they had worked for be destroyed? Would BLI crush everyone’s spirit simply by destroying the Killjoys? He had said it himself, zone dwellers and rebels looked to them for inspiration, leadership and supplies. If all that were suddenly taken away, then yes, it could easily happen.

Party glanced toward the door as it opened, even that small movement proving uncomfortable. Now he doubly wished he was still unconscious as Korse and the Party android strode confidently inside.

“Good, you're awake,” Korse smirked as he looked down at his nephew. “I wasn't certain you would, but I'm glad you survived, Gerard.”  
“Why?” Party whispered in reply. “So you can gloat?”

There was something in the way that he spoke that, at first, was hard for Korse to place. Something had changed other than the volume, and he needed to know what.

“I am reliably informed that your friends are on their way. There will be a brief, yet convincing, firefight and they will rescue you about to be placed in transit to a more secure facility. Ghoul, Jet, Kobra and your girlfriend will celebrate their good luck, no doubt, at choosing such a fortuitous time to arrive. They will return to your hideout and BLI’s much improved Party Poison will wreak havoc on the rebels and the zones.”  
“Don’t underestimate them, Korse, they’ll work it out.”

Korse tipped his head; there it was again - something was different.

“Oh, I don’t think so, and, you know, I don’t believe even you think so,” Korse laughed. “But you know what they say: things seem to get much worse before they get worse. You should know that by now, Gerard. You _do_ know that, don’t you?”

Party lowered his eyes, unable to answer the supercilious gloating of the BLI exterminator.

“Ah! That’s the difference!” Korse exclaimed. “You’re saying the words, but your passion is gone. What’s the matter, Gerard? Has your renowned sass and arrogance deserted you? Have I finally broken the great Party Poison?”

The exhaustion, infection and hours of physical, mental and emotional torture compounded and suddenly overwhelmed the young Killjoy and he felt defeated and helpless. His eyes misted beyond his control and he turned his head away rather than let Korse see his distress.

“Come,” Korse slapped a hand on the android’s shoulder, his tone buoyed up with merciless glee. “It’s time to crush his friends’ spirits too. This is indeed a historic day for BLI.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to BrokenChemicalHeart for the suggestion of 2 fabulous lines used above - the damsel in distress and Kid's Kobra comments are absolutely priceless!! :D


	22. What's in a name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of secrets come out; some are bigger than others

Party didn’t know how long he’d been asleep; he had completely lost track of time. Of course, it barely mattered now, it wasn’t as if he was going anywhere, was it? He sighed heavily as that thought drifted through his mind. Had Korse truly broken him? Was he giving up? Did it even matter? He knew he still felt so very ill from the infection and exhausted from the torture he had endured.

Those memories, those long forgotten, or at the very least repressed, memories haunted him now. He couldn’t decide which was worse - Korse killing his father in front of him or the six-year-old Mikey being torn away from him and his complete inability to do anything about it. As he examined both traumatic memories, he now realised the impact they had both had on his adult self.

His own uncle making him and his brother orphans at age ten and six had severely affected his ability to trust anyone. If he couldn’t trust family he had known all his life, how could he possibly trust anyone he had just met? And now, it had happened again. Candi and Ice; people he had known for years betraying them for money. He knew, he had to choose. Would he choose to suspect everyone, always or would he opt for taking people at face value? Neither seemed viable. The former would leave him miserable and friendless. The latter would probably get him killed. Of course, all of this assumed he would ever leave this room, which right now seemed very unlikely.

But what of the other memory? He found that strangely even more disturbing because now he could quite clearly see the effect it had had on him, but more so on Kobra. He never wanted to allow Kobra out of his sight. He desperately needed to protect him and keep him close at all times. If they were together, everything would be all right. Now he realised how frustrating it must be for Kobra and why he viewed it as not being trusted. Almost certainly the memory of being taken forcefully from his older brother had been removed and he was unaware of the length of time they were separated. They were apart for a little over a month, in fact, it could have been more. Gerard’s treatments seem to have dragged on for weeks and he was unconscious or groggy for much of the time. When he was coherent, he begged to see his brother but was consistently denied. One day he awoke and Mikey was there and remained so. But since that day, Gerard, now Party, had made certain they were never separated. At first, he had believed the reason for all the problems they were currently having was because Kobra had disobeyed him and gone off on his own. But now, he realised that if he had ever listened to his brother or explained himself, Kobra would not have stormed off. That said, this would still have happened. Candi and Ice would still have betrayed them. Finding Red had been their saving grace. She had meant that they had been separated.

He had been told during his interrogation that they had all been captured by Hart, yet Korse had said that they were going to escape from the museum. He had even made a point of telling him that a contact in the museum would ensure it. This whole elaborate trap had been set up purely to capture him and have them rescue an android version of himself. Party smiled; Korse had made a grave error there by believing Red to be Party’s girlfriend. If what was left of his fried brain had been successful, he may just have been able to plant some fake memories in the head of that damn android.

With that one thought, Party realised that he was angry and unforgiving with himself. How had he allowed himself to be captured? Kobra? Yes, he had been taken completely unaware. Ghoul? Yes, attacked at Candi and Ice’s apartment - people they trusted. Himself? Exactly the same. But he had realised in that last moment what was happening. He’d gone for his gun but had been too slow. Seriously ill and drugged; realistically he had no chance, so why did he beat himself up about it? He expected more from himself, he had people relying on him for their safety. No, they all looked out for each other, but he had to blame himself because he couldn’t blame anyone else, could he? But of course, he could. He could blame Candi, Ice and Evelyn Hart.

“Snap out of it, Party,” he grumbled. “Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to help.”

He wanted so much to believe that that was all it was. Once he was recovered, he would be able to fight back, sass Korse and maybe even escape? Perhaps believing it was enough? Korse hadn’t taken that from him. No, he was still Party Poison. Underneath the illness and exhaustion he was still a Killjoy and Korse would see that soon enough.

As Party rallied his spirits, the door to his cell opened to reveal a woman roughly in her mid-thirties wearing a white coat, flanked by two armed men.

“Oh good, anonymous BLI smiley-hooded goons,” Party commented with a scowl.  
“I don’t know why you’re being critical, Poison, you wear a mask yourself, don’t you? For all the good it did you. There are very few people who don’t know your face, and finally, it’s going to work against you,” the woman smirked.

Party felt a flash of anger burning inside him and instantly he knew he was down but not beaten. It took all the effort he had not to break into a smile at the knowledge that he was perhaps not as broken as Korse thought. But, it would serve his purpose to make them believe he was. Maybe they would lower their guard if they thought he was defeated? It was a humiliation he was prepared to suffer if it helped him escape.

“What do you want?” He grumbled, drawing his knees up to his chest as he sat atop the bed.  
“My name is Doctor Fielding and I understand you have some sort of lung infection. I'm here to treat you.”  
“Why are you even keeping me alive?” Party asked without looking up.  
“I have no answer to that,” she snapped. “Exterminator Korse has decided that you’re still useful for something, so he wants you alive and well. Personally, I cannot imagine what use a rebel would be. Even one of your infamy.”  
“If you’re here to cure me, then do it and leave me alone!” Party snapped.  
“The rebels must be a weak rabble to follow you. You’re pathetic!”

Party held his temper; he wondered if she was actually trying to goad him into a response. Was it a test? Was Korse watching, checking to see if he was truly broken? Well, if he was, he was going to give him the performance of a lifetime.

He glanced up, a pained, distressed expression on his face - if he could cry on demand, he would have, but the best he had was a look of sheer desperation.

“Do what you’re here to do and get out and leave me alone!” He yelled, dropping his head onto his knees. “If you killed me it would be better than this! Locked up in here, no friends, no colour, no life! I thought I’d taken all the torture he had to offer, but this is the worst!”

Party's shoulders shook lightly as if he were crying and he heard the doctor chuckle. Pushing his hands against his eyes, pretending to wipe his tears away, Party looked bleakly up.

“What do you want from me?”  
“Want? Nothing. Perhaps I expected more from the renowned Party Poison. You’re actually quite disappointing.”  
“Well I'm sorry I've let you down,” he sighed as he looked away.  
“On the contrary,” she smiled. “I do believe we have exactly what we wanted, just quicker than expected.”

Party sighed again; it was killing him to act so meek but it would be worth it if it helped him escape.

“Take these,” she finally thrust a small dispensing cup of three tablets towards him. “There’s water on your night stand.”

Party took the cup in his left hand and stared inside at the small pills. Two round white tablets and one capsule.

“What are they?” He asked quietly.  
“What good will it do you to know? You’re not a doctor.”  
“I was taking Genezen and Ademen before,” he replied without explanation.  
“Oh,” she laughed. “Genezen! That’s such an antiquated drug. The capsule is Bryzik, you’ll be fine in no time.”  
“What are the others?”  
“Varsill,” she replied, only continuing when Party raised an eyebrow. “You are quite run down you know and they’ll help the Bryzik to work and stop you contracting further infections. Think of them as similar to vitamins. I very much doubt you eat well in the desert, it’s hardly surprising you got so ill.”  
“And if I don’t take them?” He asked with some suspicion, as he noticed her tone seemed to almost warm towards him.  
“Take them, Poison,” she replied, adopting her previous tone.

Behind her, one of the men cocked the rifle he held and lowered it to point threateningly at him.

“You’re going to a lot of trouble not to kill me,” Party observed. “Why would I think you’d shoot me?”

Leaning forward, Fielding took the small cup of pills from the now perplexed Party.

“Shoot,” she ordered.  
“No!”

Party's eyes widened in horror; he had not expected the sudden change of heart. The BLI operative squeezed the trigger releasing a stream of purple light, hitting Party squarely in the chest causing him to shake violently. The burst of light was brief but devastating. Party collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for breath, still twitching and dazed.

“That was level three, but the range is one to ten,” she explained. “These rifles can deliver individual pulses or continuous streams for up to twenty seconds. A ten second burst on eight will kill you. In your condition, a ten second burst on five probably would. I suggest you take the tablets, Poison or you will regret it, I assure you.”

Pushing the cup into Party’s hand once more, she watched as he poured himself a beaker of water with shaking hands. Satisfied that he had swallowed the pills, Fielding added:

“Someone will bring you some food soon, I expect you’re hungry.”

Party nodded; it had been so long since he had eaten - the meagre breakfast the day he had met Red was the last time and he remembered that, even by his standards, he had eaten very little.

“Oh, and your companion will return shortly too.”  
“Companion?” Party was shocked by how quiet his voice emerged as he spoke.  
“The green porno-droid,” she explained. “You’re going to be here for the rest of your life, Poison. You’re going to need a companion; we’re not cruel here at BLI, you know.”  
“No,” Party shook his head, unimpressed by the statement. “Not cruel at all.”  
“Get some sleep, the Bryzik will probably make you sleep anyway,” she added before she and the two men left the room leaving Party alone once more.

He looked around the room, taking it in for the first time. It was a very simple affair. Entirely white with a bed, night stand and a jug of water with a beaker. Another door drew his attention but as he rose to see what lay beyond, his eyes rolled back in their sockets and the room spun. Suddenly weak and dizzy, Party lay back. The other door would have to wait; he was unconscious in moments.

*

Kobra opened the door to the trans am and waved for Red to take a seat in the back.

“After you,” he said with a wink.

Ghoul looked at Jet, who returned with the same expression; Kobra always rode shotgun or wanted to drive in Party’s absence. He was as fast and aggressive behind the wheel as Party was, both of them able to make the car do things that few would dare. But today, his eye for the road was very firmly fixed on Red.

“Kobra?” Jet called into the car from the driver’s side door. “Your head’s in the game, right?”  
“My head is right where it needs to be, Jet.”  
“Yeah, that’s what I'm worried about!”

Ghoul couldn’t help but chuckle at the innuendo as he took his place alongside Jet in the front passenger seat. Looking at Jet, he could see the mild frustration in his eyes as he heard giggling from the rear seat. A distraction might be in order.

“So, Red,” Ghoul began. “You never did tell us how you know Kobra. Or maybe you did, was that some other huge revelation I missed?”  
“No, Ghoul,” Red laughed. “You didn’t miss it. When I thought all my family had been killed,” she leaned forward and squeezed Jet’s shoulder lightly, “I was taken by BLI to their marketing department. I told you that. They housed me with some other children and I was allowed to choose an activity. The choice was ballet or martial arts. Well, there was no way they were going to get me in a tutu, so I opted for martial arts. Mikey… sorry, Kobra had been there a while and was already so advanced he was actually teaching the beginners.”  
“Scarlet was my best student,” he grinned. “She really practised hard every day. Even when we didn’t have lessons.”  
“It’s good to have two martial arts experts on the team!” Ghoul turned to look behind and smiled broadly at them.  
“Ghoul,” Jet mused. “You ended up in BLI, didn’t you?”  
“Er, yeah,” Ghoul replied slowly, concerned about where the conversation was heading. “Why?”  
“Well, I can't help noticing that you’re not trained in martial arts,” Jet continued with a smirk now firmly fixed on his face.  
“No, I'm not,” he replied now staring out of the window.  
“Ghoul?”  
“Yes, Jet?” Ghoul sighed with exasperation.  
“Did you learn ballet?” Jet chuckled.  
“Yes, I did, and no, I never wore a tutu!”  
“All these years! How long have we known you? And not once did I ever see you do a pirouette. You kept that a closely guarded secret, didn’t you?” Jet laughed.  
“I wasn’t very good at it at first,” Ghoul shrugged, embarrassed to have all eyes on him. “They said I danced like a zombie. But I got better.”  
“Is that where you got your name from?”  
“Yeah,” Ghoul sighed again. “But don’t ever mention this again! Please!”  
“There are good aspects,” Red chimed in. “I bet you’re very flexible.”  
“Lucky Party!” Kobra laughed loudly.  
“Oh, very funny!” Ghoul snapped. “But yes, he is lucky! All right, _snake boy,_ where does your name come from then?”

Kobra’s smile faded slowly to a frown. The blood draining out of his face as he retrieved a long forgotten, almost obliterated memory. Playing with Gerard, Korse, no Uncle Grant…Dad?

“No!” He screamed suddenly. “Stop the car! Stop the car!”

Jet turned horrified by the terror in Kobra’s voice and yet more in his eyes. Slamming the brakes hard, Jet brought the car to a screeching halt. Tumbling out, Kobra leaned heavily against the back wheel and lost what little remained in his stomach. Sinking to his knees, he gasped for breath, tears streaming down his face.

“Kobra,” Red placed an arm comfortingly around his shoulders as Ghoul and Jet joined her at his side. “What’s wrong?”  
“Korse,” he choked out. “He killed my dad, right in front of us. Right in front of us!”  
“That’s the nightmare that Party keeps having,” Ghoul suddenly made sense of why Party never wanted to discuss it.  
“That’s not the worst of it,” Kobra sat back, wiping the salty water from his eyes and cheeks.  
“What’s worse than that?” Jet asked, bewildered.  
“Korse,” Kobra shook his head. “He’s our uncle.”

A stunned silence followed. Red pulled Kobra close to her as she comforted him. Jet and Ghoul merely shared glances; it certainly explained his preoccupation with Party.

“Does Party know?” Red asked quietly.  
Ghoul took a deep breath. “If I had to guess, I'd say yes.”  
“Damn,” Jet shook his head, blindsided by the news. “That’s a hell of a secret to carry around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading! If you like it, feel free to drop me a comment. It's always good to hear from you! Sas xx


	23. End Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korse discusses his long term plans for Party with one of the Unit doctors treating him

Korse looked up before checking the time on the wall clock; she was late.

“Come in,” he called as he closed the file on the screen.

Looking up expectantly, Korse narrowed his eyes as Doctor Fielding entered his office. He didn’t like Doctor Fielding. In truth, he didn't like very many people, but he particularly didn’t like her. He wasn't convinced that she was thorough enough in her work. She was a good doctor, that wasn't in question - yes she could cure someone of their illnesses, but this was the wrong unit for her. She was perhaps too much of a doctor, intent on saving people. This was something of a departure for her. Not everyone was cut out for torture and he strongly suspected that she was one of them.

Fielding briefly looked around the office' she had never been there before. On the few occasions they had met, it had either been in her office or with a prisoner. She noted that it wasn’t a very large or grand office. Most of the furniture was as expected: bland, monochrome and purely functional. A few personal items stood out in sharp contrast to the remainder of the room. An ornamental mahogany hat and coat stand near the entrance was home to his long grey frock coat. A matching mahogany book case lined with old, pre-war books, mostly on military strategy and spy craft. The final item, tucked away on one of the shelves was a small, ornamental brass photo frame. An intricate vine pattern wound carefully around the square frame, decorating it in a distinctive but subtle way. Oddly, although the photo frame stood on a shelf, clearly on display, there was no photograph nestled behind the glass.

“Doctor Fielding,” he swept a hand to indicate the chair opposite him across the desk. “May I have your report?”  
“Subject, Party Poison…”  
“Yes, yes,” Korse waved his hand irritably. “I know who he is. Just give me the report.”

Fielding frowned. She did not like Korse and like many others just like her, she had her reasons but she was good at her job and he was treating her like a rank amateur. It was humiliating and completely unnecessary. She hadn't wanted to be transferred to the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit but the recent removal of three doctors from their positions had required it. She was starting to grow suspicious about what had happened to them. Officially the reason given was temporary relief from duty due to stress, which had sounded like a considerate action on BLI’s behalf. It had given her a warm feeling that the company she worked for was being so caring towards its staff, but now she wasn't sure. One of those doctors had been an acquaintance from medical school and, on her transfer, she had sent him a message saying how sorry she was to hear that he was so stressed and hoped he felt better soon. That had been three weeks ago and having heard nothing in reply she was beginning to worry.

“He has taken the anti-viral medication.” She answered curtly. “He was expecting to be given Genezen but I explained to him that it was an antiquated drug. He will probably be well by tonight, certainly tomorrow.”  
“Any follow up required on that?”  
“No, there would have been with Genezen, but not with Bryzik.”

Korse nodded and made a note in his file.

“I have a written report,” she tipped her head as he finished his note.  
“I see that,” Korse stared in return. “I like to make my own notes. Any side effects of the Bryzik?”  
“It’s very strong, so it will have knocked him out, he’s weak anyway, he may be out for some time. Perhaps a few hours.”  
“And the Varsill?” He asked with a sly smile.  
“He took two at a relatively low dose, but I assume you don’t want him suspecting anything just yet.”  
“He took it without question?” Korse raised an eyebrow; it was unexpected.  
“Virtually,” she nodded. “He asked what they were and I told him that they would help the Bryzik work and could be considered similar to vitamins, as he’d been run-down from eating desert scraps.”  
“And he went for it? He believed you?”  
“So far,” she nodded.  
“You're certain he swallowed them?”  
“I know how to give tablets to prisoners, Korse!” She snapped.

Korse’s head snapped up and he fixed her with cold, glowering eyes. Fielding swallowed hard as his icy stare seemed to dig down into her soul. In that moment, she understood why he had such a fearsome reputation. His eyes seemed at once ferocious and dead; somehow capable of reaching in and tearing every ounce of happiness from her heart.

“My apologies, Exterminator Korse,” she replied with a small, quiet voice. Clearing her throat, she continued: “He seems quite broken. I was surprised at the speed of the change.”  
“He’s not as broken as he wants us to think, but I'm happy to play along to see if he gives his end game away. In the meantime I want you to increase the dosage.”  
“Already?” Fielding asked with a frown. “You realise you're risking him being able to fight back, don’t you? Surely, it’s better to wait until he’s addicted?”  
“Trust me, that will come surprisingly quickly.” Korse smirked. “He’s taken something very similar before now. The body does not forget.”

 

“I need to arrange a meal schedule for him,” she reached into her file only to be interrupted.  
“No,” Korse cut in. “I want you to keep promising him food, but don’t actually provide any.”  
“No food?” She frowned at the idea. “He’s already weak, that would just…”  
“He’s not weak enough,” Korse crossed one hand over the other as he leaned forward on the desk. “My plans for him require absolute submission. I know he’s faking being broken and he can act as meek as he likes, but I know him better than you do and it will take much more than he’s had.”  
“I disagree,” Fielding straightened her back as she took a deep breath.

Korse smiled slowly; he liked that she wasn’t afraid to stand up to him.

“Do you?” His voice sounded as though he was actually chewing the words as he spoke them. “And what do you know of what I have planned for him?”  
“If you’re giving him Varsill then I assume you’re planning to brainwash him?”  
“Oh, my dear doctor,” he chuckled cruelly. “That is only a fraction of what’s in store for Poison. After I'm finished with him, his mind will be completely malleable. I will be able to make him believe anything I choose. Make him do anything I want. The best part about all of this is that he’s still being tortured, but, as yet, he's unaware. By the time he is aware, by the time the pain begins, he will be quite unable to resist.”  
“All the more reason not to rush it, I would have thought?”

Korse raised his hand to his mouth, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on his lips. Perhaps he had been hasty in his assumption of the doctor? Was it worth him employing an expert if he wasn’t prepared to take her advice?

“I am impressed at your dedication, doctor. What do you suggest?”  
“Perhaps combining Varsill with something like Hallsig?”  
“What does that do?” Korse raised a curious eyebrow.

The doctor offered a smile, one that Korse recognised as cruel; he was approving more of this doctor with every passing minute.

“It’s quite a new drug, it will prevent him from sleeping. He will still tire of course, but the drug prevents the body’s ability to sleep. He will grow increasingly tired and given his current state, within no more than two days will be too confused by exhaustion for his body to even notice the dosage change never mind fight it. Then, you can increase it as much as you need. If we keep using the Hallsig, the effect of the Varsill will be much stronger and faster. Especially if you also intend less subtle methods of torture.”  
“What if you were to give it to him now? Would it wake him?”  
“Certainly, as I said, it prevents the body from sleeping. So yes, he wouldn’t be able to remain asleep.”  
“And the Bryzik, will it still work if he’s awake?”  
“Yes,” the doctor held in a smile at the exterminator’s lack of understanding. “It isn’t essential for him to be asleep for the drug to work, it’s merely that the strength of the drug and his current level of health has made him pass out.”

Korse drew his lips into a thin, broad smile, almost bordering on a sneer. The doctor had just handed him exactly what he needed. He knew that the android wouldn't convince the Killjoys for long but it would be amusing to see how they dealt with it. In the meantime of course, Poison would know that no one was looking for him. An additional and delightful aspect to his mental and emotional torture.

“Very good.” He made a few more notes before closing the file. “Start him on the Hallsig immediately. Make sure he’s restrained on the bed too.”  
“He doesn’t need to be,” she replied with a puzzled expression. “Remember, it won’t give him any extra energy. He won’t be able to escape at all.”  
“Ah, doctor, you have much to learn in this unit. You’ve told Poison he’s going to be fed and he won’t be. You’ve told him that his companion will return to him, but she is being reprogrammed before that happens. You’ve told him he’ll be there for the rest of his life and I want him to worry about exactly how long that life will be.”  
“Exterminator Korse,” the doctor’s voice faltered momentarily. “Do you intend to make him work for BLI? To use against the zonerunners?”  
“Not at all.” He replied to her surprise. “If I do that, he merely becomes another figure to hate or a rallying focus against us.”  
“Then what? I need to be aware of your plans so I don’t accidentally do anything to contradict what you need.”

Korse considered the question; he knew his motives were partly personal. Well, in fact, mostly personal.

After he had killed his own family, bringing his own nephews into BLI had seemed a good idea at the time. His actions in BLI’s name had found him favour and because of his position within the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit the boys had been high profile additions to many of BLI’s campaigns.

Mikey, he knew was compliant following his treatments, but he had always had his doubts about Gerard. Despite taking the pills on a daily basis, Korse couldn’t help but notice that underneath the fog surrounding the older boy’s mind, there was an emotion. It had started, he realised now as deep sadness for their loss. Then later it had morphed into hatred. If he had realised sooner that Gerard had retained the memories they had tried to erase, he would never have allowed him so much freedom within the city. But Gerard was clever; he knew enough not to give anything away or even discuss it with Mikey. Three years his junior, Mikey, whilst trusting of BLI, was very much under Gerard’s influence. Also that of Gerard's long term friend Frank. Despite being younger than Mikey, the boy admired Frank simply because Gerard did and the three seemed inseparable. If Korse had for a moment trusted his instincts, he would not have been in the position that Gerard had placed him in. But he couldn't, wouldn’t, blame himself for trusting his nephew. He had provided both boys with everything they had needed for a successful life with BLI: a home, medication and a career with a generous income.

The cute boys became handsome young men and were frequently sought after to promote BLI’s ever expanding empire. Until, of course, that fateful day when the pair along with Frank had escaped Battery City to go on the run in the desert. Joining forces with a fourth zonerunner already known to them as part of Doctor Death Defying’s entourage, they had become The Fabulous Killjoys one of the more successful and problematic band of rebels.

Korse had been humiliated and feared for his career, even his life. He had been right to be afraid and, as a result, had been committed to the _second acceptable level of existence_ in punishment for the boys’ very public rejection of everything BLI stood for. Korse was now technically part android, with the implants inside him overriding those parts of his brain dealing with compassion. His career, and possibly even his life, had been saved only because he had submitted to the operation. Now with skewed reasoning, and unrestrained hatred for Gerard, whom he blamed for his humiliation, Korse was consumed with the need for revenge. He didn’t want to make Party Poison an example to other zonerunners, he merely wanted to destroy him - slowly and utterly. Perhaps to then release him back to the desert, an empty, lost shell.

“Very well, I’m going to destroy him.” He finally replied. “To take every happy memory he’s ever had, to forget everything except the pain. To break him beyond repair, then throw him away like the refuse he is. And you get to help me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I really do appreciate it!! :D Any thoughts/comments? Sas xx


	24. Party gets his lecture on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kobra's temper flares again and Party gives Dr Fielding a piece of his mind - but not the one they're after

Jet had been driving for almost fifteen minutes; the tension in the car thick and palpable. After the revelation that Korse was Party and Kobra’s uncle, a pall of disquiet had settled over the group and nobody wanted to be the first to speak. Eventually it was Kobra who broke the silence, his voice hoarse and subdued.

“Can someone tell me why we’re driving away from Battery City?”  
“Because we haven’t slept in two days and charging into BLI with slowed responses is suicidal.”  
“I’ve slept,” Kobra retorted with an angry undertone. “So has Ghoul.”

Jet rolled his eyes forgetting that Kobra would be able to see his reflection in the rear view mirror. Kobra’s eyes widened and he reached forward shoving Jet’s seat, incandescent with rage.

“Stop the fucking car, Jet! Stop it now! If you haven’t got the guts to go after Party, I will!”  
“Kobra, no,” Red intervened, pulling his arm back only to be swept aside by the livid Killjoy.

Furious, Jet practically stood on the brake, throwing them all forward in their seats before being flung back again once more as the trans am came to an abrupt stop. Jet’s seatbelt was unfastened and the car door was flung open before the others had even stopped moving.

“Jet!” Red shouted, shocked to recognise the same expression of fury in his face as she would sometimes show in her own.

Ghoul turned in his seat to see Kobra unbuckling his seatbelt, his face an intense mask of rage.

“Calm down, man, you don’t…”

Before he even managed to finish his sentence, the passenger side door was being wrenched open and Jet had reached in, hauling Kobra out by his jacket. Keeping his arms low, Jet prevented the younger man from straightening up before throwing him back against the car.

“You’re not the only one who cares about Party but if you want to be a dick, you go right ahead. Go get yourself killed, Kobra but do not push my sister, ever! Do you understand me?” He yelled holding Kobra’s shoulders, keeping him pressed back against the body of the car.  
“If you fucking cared about Party, you’d be heading in the opposite direction!” Kobra screamed back.

Batting Jet’s arms away, Kobra lowered his shoulder and barrelled into him, sending the pair to the ground. Jet raised his knee, pressing it against Kobra’s chest ready to force him back, but the younger man was quicker. Pushing Jet’s leg to the side, across his body, Kobra forced Jet to roll over onto his front. Pulling his right arm back and sitting astride him, Kobra forced Jet’s head down, pinning him to the ground.

“If it was Red in there, you’d be in there already, wouldn’t you!” He growled, forcing Jet’s face into the dirt.

With a grunt of effort and determination Jet pressed his right knee into the ground using his weight advantage to give himself enough leverage to twist his body and throw Kobra off and to his left, forcing Ghoul to shuffle quickly backwards to avoid being knocked flat. This had been something Ghoul had seen coming for a long time. Kobra was feeling frustrated, angry and guilty, believing that this whole scenario had occurred because of his temper and reckless actions. The irony had occurred to Ghoul that that was exactly what was playing out now, but it had clearly not occurred to Kobra.

“Ghoul,” Red snapped. “How about you stop smirking and help me stop this?”

Ghoul shrugged, keeping the smirk; Kobra probably needed to get it out of his system, he did feel sorry for Jet though.

“Sorry, not me,” he shook his head. “Ballet, remember?”  
Red shook her head angrily. “Well at least keep Jet back,” she snapped, earning a chuckle in reply.

Rushing forward as Kobra moved to stand, she grabbed an arm, set her balance standing at an angle to him and with only the smallest movement, she lifted him easily and deposited him back on the ground, still holding his arm and twisting it lightly to keep him still.

“Enough!” She snapped, glaring down at Kobra as he tried to manoeuvre out of her grip. “I don’t want to hurt you Kobra, stay still!”  
“Thanks!” Jet growled as he headed toward the downed man.  
“Hey!” Ghoul intervened, placing both hands on Jet’s chest. “That was to both of you! What’s the matter with you? Both of you!” Ghoul looked between the two men who were thankfully now starting to calm. “Get back in the car and let’s go. We’re out in the open here. If a drac patrol came by right now, we’d be dead!”

The words finally filtered through both men’s angry haze. Jet nodded first, calming visibly. Stepping forward, he held out his hand as Red let go of Kobra’s arm and helped the younger man to his feet.

“I get you’re concerned,” he admitted. “I do, but you’ve been tortured, so has Ghoul and Red and I haven’t slept at all. We need to be sharp or we’re not getting anybody out of anywhere.”  
Kobra nodded. “I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “It’s just, I…” Kobra waved his arms at his sides in an expression of helplessness. He couldn’t even find the words to convey his distress.  
“You blame yourself,” Red completed the unfinished sentence. “We know. But we also know that it isn’t your fault! This was all down to Candi and Ice, it would have happened anyway. Accept it!”  
“And the first taken would have been you and Party!” Ghoul added.  
“Yeah,” Kobra sighed. “I know. I just feel so helpless.”  
“Look, we’ll get some rest, something to eat and tomorrow we’ll be far from helpless, yeah?” Jet nodded for emphasis, placing a comforting hand on Kobra’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”  
“Where are we going?” Red asked.  
“Sleep on a friend’s floor,” Jet replied with a smile.  
“We can trust this one, can we?” Red asked, somewhat sceptical.

Jet let out a short laugh and scratched his head.

“How would you describe Kami Kazee?” Jet looked at Ghoul who merely laughed in response.  
“Oh, don't bother,” Red shook her head. “'I think I've got the idea.”  
“She’ll look after us in her own special way, don’t worry,” Jet smiled, running his fingers through his hair, encouraging another throaty chuckle from Ghoul.

*

Doctor Fielding entered Party's cell. With her, were two guards, but she was more than aware that they wouldn’t be required; he was deeply unconscious from the effects of the Bryzik. She stared at him for a few moments, wondering how this handsome, slender, flame-haired man could possibly be the cause of so much anger in Korse. Yes, the Killjoys were infamous for their escapades; theft, freeing prisoners, attacking BLI patrols and general disruption. But it seemed that this one man was the focus of too much anger to be justified by the rebel group’s actions. There was clearly more to it than that, but at the moment, her concern was merely to assist in breaking him and the first step was to restrain him.

“Ankles, wrists and neck,” she ordered.

Standing back, she watched as the guards fastened straps around him, pulling them tight before securing them.

“Loosen the one on the neck, you fool!” she snapped as Party’s face began to darken. “Unless you want to explain to Exterminator Korse how you killed his prisoner.”

The guard who had fastened the strap around Party’s neck hastily adjusted it until it hung loose enough for him to be able to place a gloved finger easily between the strap and his neck. Looking up, seeking approval, he breathed a sigh of relief when Fielding nodded.

“You can leave now,” she added, inspecting the strength and firmness of the restraints.  
“We’re not supposed to leave you, Doctor,” one of the guards replied respectfully.  
“What do you imagine he’s going to do?” She pointed to him. “I’m quite safe.”

Sitting on the edge of the small bed, she opened a small case and withdrew a syringe already filled with a clear liquid. As she pressed the plunger to ease a few drops out, she looked up irritably to see the two guards still in the room with her.

“Can’t you wait outside?” She asked.  
“No, ma’am, Exterminator Korse’s orders. He’s dangerous, ma’am.”

Fielding looked down at the young man lying restrained and still unconscious in front of her and found herself wondering if the guard was referring to the prisoner or to Korse.

“Well, can you at least wait by the door?”  
“Yes, ma’am.”

Waiting until the guards had retreated to stand by the door, Fielding inserted the syringe into Party's arm. Discarding the used syringe into a secure compartment within the case after injecting him with Hallsig, Fielding watched as within only a few moments, Party's eyes began to slowly open.

“Tell me, Poison,” Fielding began. “What drives you to rebel? What on earth was missing from your life in Battery City for you to prefer a life of pain and semi-starvation out in the desert?”

Party shook his head, only now feeling the restraint around his neck. Instinctively he tried to reach for it, only to discover the additional restraints, first on his wrists and then his ankles. He laughed bitterly.

“Freedom,” he answered with a scowl, pulling at the strap around his right wrist as if to draw her attention to it. “Isn’t it obvious?”  
“You weren’t a prisoner when you left,” she replied calmly only to be surprised as Party fixed her with sadness clear in his eyes.  
“And the problem is, you genuinely believe that.”  
“You’re implying that I’m a prisoner too?”  
“When you went to medical school, did you hope to cure people or were you studying thinking, I hope one day I'll work for an evil organisation and be torturing prisoners for a living?” Seeing the change in her expression, Party continued; he was in lecture mode. “Do you even know what BLI do to people out in the Zones? They’re starving them. I'm not even talking about rebels, I'm talking about good hard working people, just trying to get by and raise their families, but they can’t because BLI are killing them. They send drac patrols out to kill, beat or capture anyone outside of the townships, wearing a colour or daring to think for themselves. It doesn’t even matter if they’re drifters, just keeping to themselves. And what you call rebels, I call freedom-fighters. We fight for everyone’s right to think and live how they want. To raise their families peacefully and in security and happiness.”  
“You’re a terrorist, Poison! You steal from BLI, you attack and kill draculoid patrols, you are trying to destroy a system that works!” She snapped back.  
“Works!” He raged. “Did you become a doctor to pump all people so full of mind altering drugs they could feel nothing? All emotions removed from them? Shuffling through their lives on autopilot? No love, no laughter, no passion?”  
“No violence, no greed, no anger?” She retorted.  
“No violence?”

He shook his head as much as he was able. The anger, rage and bitterness he had felt for so long was pouring out of him now. No longer able to feign meekness, Party was screaming with fury.

“You don't think what you're doing to me is violent? Was it not violent when Korse shot my father in front of me when I was ten just because he didn’t want to work for BLI?”

Fielding visibly gasped at his final words as tears streamed down his face once more as the memory flooded his mind and he was finally able to grieve.

“You don’t take the drugs, I can tell, well not all of them anyway. You couldn't do your job if you did. That means you’re doing this by choice! No one is forcing you. You trained as a healer and you're only bringing pain, terror and destruction and you dare to call _me_ a terrorist?”

The door opened to reveal Korse, his expression cold and furious.

“Doctor Fielding,” his voice was clipped. “You will come with me, now!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! I hope you're still enjoying this. I'd love to hear from you so if you have the time to leave a comment, it would be greatly appreciated!


	25. That's Odd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr Fielding continues to have doubts and Jet owns up to his behaviour

Fielding walked briskly down the stark, clinical corridor behind Korse. All along the bright white walls were wanted and extermination posters for many different faces but four were repeated more than once and of those four one featured frequently. She recognised the man as Poison. Either BLI or Korse, and she suspected the latter, had an unhealthy obsession with him.

Korse was furious. She could tell just from the way he moved. Long fast strides, sharp turns around corners causing his coat to flap wildly in a self-created breeze and his fists clenched almost as tightly as his jaw. 

His appearance at the cell had confirmed what she had suspected following their earlier conversation. The cell had a listening device installed and he had heard everything they had discussed. What he was specifically angry about, she wasn't certain. Poison's accusation of murder was certainly a possibility but she presumed the entire conversation may have been considered unacceptable. If so, she had to decide on her approach. One thing she was certain of, she was not going to ask any questions or say anything that might make her appear to side with Poison. That would be suicidal. 

Entering Korse's office once more, he used a sweeping yet somehow abrupt gesture to indicate that she should sit. 

"Exterminator Korse..." Fielding began before being quickly interrupted.   
"I think you've asked too many questions already, don't you?" He asked, unpleasantly.   
"Not at all," she replied flatly. "Barely enough, in fact."  
"And what, might I ask, does that mean?" He growled angrily. 

Fielding took a deep breath and shook her head.

“I doubt you know my areas of expertise, sir, but one of them is psychology. Perhaps that is why I was transferred to this unit? So I could use my skills to assist in breaking him, but I have many more talents than those. I realise you have interrogators and I have no doubt that they are very good at their jobs, but with my training, I can bring insights into personality, outlook and potential actions.”

As she spoke, she watched Korse’s anger slowly dissipate, only to be replaced by curiosity.

“Give me an example of your thoughts on what he told you.”  
“He is misogynistic,” she lied. “He has little regard for integrity or honesty, either his own or in others. He genuinely seemed to think that if he sold me a lie, I would throw aside everything I know and trust to follow him. He's arrogant enough to think that either he's irresistible or that I’m weak-willed.”  
“Can I assume from what you say that he didn’t impress you?”

Fielding snorted disdainfully and rolled her eyes.

“Of course not,” she laughed. “He might be able to fool impressionable children and impress radicals who want to bring down our system just because it doesn’t cater to their criminal needs, but his words are lost on anyone with reason.”  
“I’m glad to hear it, doctor,” Korse smiled maliciously.

She had in actuality been quite surprised, even shocked, by what Poison had said. If only a small fraction of it had been true, then she was very concerned indeed. Could BLI be the evil organisation he insisted it was? She had long since accepted that the image of BLI as a shiny, considerate, well-oiled machine that looked after its staff and citizens with the help of mind-controlling drugs.

But, what if he was right? What if there was another side to it? Were the drugs really that bad? He had been right when he said that she didn’t take them and couldn't have done her job if she did.

But what kind of a job was it, anyway? Again, he was right. She wasn’t healing the sick or researching new cures. She had just given a prisoner a drug to force him to remain awake. In addition, he was being given mind-altering drugs that she knew would aid Korse in his plans. What they were doing to him was violent and they were torturing him.

It seemed reasonable to assume that everything else was true also. It was a bleak and worrying realisation for her because if it was all true, she had a choice to make. She made a very good living in BLI, she had a beautiful apartment, nice clothes, good food. She thought about Party Poison: dirty, hungry, worn clothes and suffering with illnesses she could cure in hours with the right medication. Even if he was right about everything, could she give it all up? Would it matter even if she did? She was just one person, she couldn’t change a thing, either by being there or not being there.

“I want you to increase the dose of the Varsill to sixty milligrams.”  
“Sixty?” Fielding raised her eyebrows. “Just to check with you, sir, are you fully aware of the effect that will have on him?”

“Yes, I'm aware,” he leaned forward across the desk. “I told you, I want Party Poison destroyed. I want him to be just a shell with only tormenting thoughts and memories for company. I could be very clinical and remove memories in the chamber, but how much more fun it would be to simply blank entire tranches of memory and twist whatever remains? Frankly, I don’t care what’s left, as long as he is irretrievably damaged until he is nothing of his former self.”  
“Sixty milligrams will work exactly as you have in mind. I will have to increase the dose slowly however,” she replied rising to her feet.  
“Why?” Korse narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You said earlier that with the Hallsig, I could raise it as high as I liked.”  
“No, sir, I said that in a couple of days he would be so exhausted that he would be unable to fight it.” Fielding explained.

Korse frowned deeply, remembering her words.

“What can you increase it to?”  
“Ten,” she replied.  
“Twenty,” Korse countered.

Fielding considered his order for a few moments, before nodding.

“It's a risk, but if you're prepared to take it, I'll give him twenty,” she nodded.  
“Thank you,” he replied, waving a hand to dismiss her, but as she reached the door, he called after her. “Doctor Fielding, I should warn you that I expect absolute loyalty. You wouldn’t want to go the same way as Poison, would you?”

Fielding tried hard not to display any of the terror she felt at the words. Instead she allowed her shock to form an indignant expression.

“Exterminator Korse, I take exception to your accusation that I would side with a rebel,” she replied with a huff of anger in her tone.  
“It wasn't an accusation,” Korse smiled slyly. “It was merely a warning but one you would do well to heed.”  
“I will visit him in another hour to give him more,” she replied coldly, refusing to be drawn.  
“Good,” Korse waved his hand toward the door again. “Dismissed.”

With the door closed behind her, she was still trying to hide her anger in case cameras were also placed outside his office. Suspecting that there would be, she merely smoothed her lab coat and headed briskly back to her own office. As she walked, she travelled down the corridor of wanted and extermination posters again. She paused at a few of them and read some of the citations. One in particular drew her attention:

 _Name: Party Poison_  
Crime: Terrorism  
Affiliation: Killjoys  
Status: Running  
Location: Unknown  
Sentence: Extermination  
Distinguishing features: Red hair, yellow mask and gun  
Known sympathisers:  
        Doctor Death Defying: Extermination, Whereabouts unknown  
        Show Pony: Wanted, Whereabouts unknown  
        Coffin Dancer: Wanted, Whereabouts unknown  
        Ice Diamond: DNA, Citizen, Zone 3  
        Candi Crush: DNA, Citizen, Zone 3  
        Cornelius Tucker: DNA, Citizen, Zone 2  
        Lawrence Buxton: O&R, Citizen, Whereabouts unknown

The remaining Killjoy posters contained very similar details, also with similarly unflattering photos. There were, however, no details on what crimes they had committed. She was intrigued.

*

Being notionally the least exhausted of all four, Ghoul had been driving for the last hour, but even he was beginning flag. It was another twenty minutes to Kami’s shop but at least they would be out of the desert in the next five. The long straight highway could be hypnotising and when already very tired, he knew that could be dangerous. In the distance, he could see a few lights from the town of Nystad and he was grateful to finally have something to focus his mind on. Within seconds, he would curse himself for wanting something to wake him up. As if he had jinxed himself, the high beam of a draculoid motorcycle filled the car and dazzled him in the rear view mirror.

“Damn it!” He cursed as a second and third beam lit up the road ahead travelling toward him at speed. “'Wake up! Dracs!” He yelled.

Instantly awake and alert, Jet, Kobra and Red readied themselves.

“What have we got?” Jet asked quickly as he slid back the sun roof so he and Kobra could stand.  
“Two in front, one behind,” Ghoul replied. “I’m red lining the car, evasive driving, keep hold of something.”  
“I need a gun,” Red announced.  
“No,” Jet shook his head, “stay down, we’ll…”  
“'Give me a goddamned gun!” She shouted. “I’m not helpless!”

Ghoul smiled and passed his gun to her, initially to Jet’s annoyance, but there simply wasn't time to discuss it. All three rose, Kobra firing behind and Jet and Red firing in front. Ghoul gunned the trans am and it hurtled forward at over a hundred miles an hour causing one of the motorcycles to veer off the road to avoid being hit. Turning as it passed, Red fired, hitting the rider in the back and watched as the motorcycle went out of control, rolling over and crushing the draculoid. On the opposite side of the car, Jet hit the rider square in the chest, the force of the blast knocking him from his position and the motorcycle slid away from under him.

“That’s weird,” Kobra frowned, as he lowered his arm.  
“What’s weird?” Jet asked turning to look at him, but Ghoul glancing in the rear view mirror already knew what Kobra was concerned about.  
“The other drac’s just stopped.”

As they watched, the first motorcycle turned and rode away back down Route Guano towards Battery City.

“Should I follow?” Ghoul asked, briefly turning to look at the others.  
“He doesn’t know where we’re going, so there’s no need,” Jet replied, lowering himself back into the car, followed by Kobra and Red.  
“I don’t like that,” Kobra voiced his concern. “That’s not normal behaviour for a drac.”  
“No, it’s not,” Ghoul replied, equally perplexed. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before.”  
“Could it be something to do with Party?” Red asked.  
“Like what?” Kobra asked.  
“I don’t know,” Red admitted. “Maybe they’re moving him somewhere and he’s gone back to warn them?”  
“Except we’re going in the opposite direction,” Kobra frowned. “And before anyone says anything, yes, I accept why we are, but it does rule out the warning idea.”  
“Well, I don’t know,” Ghoul shrugged, “but it’s definitely odd.”  
“How far, Ghoul?” Jet asked, changing the subject.  
“Oh, about ten minutes maybe?” He replied, accepting his gun back and tucking it in its holster. “We just about cut the journey in half by gunning the engines.”  
“Speaking of guns…”  
“Jet, I’m…”  
“A grown woman who’s kept herself alive for twenty-four years. I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just, all these years you knew you had a brother but you thought you lost him. I didn’t even know I had a sister, then it all came flooding back when I walked into that field across the door to Ghoul’s room at the museum and…” Jet sighed and looked down again.  
“And what?” Red asked quietly.  
“I just wish I could have kept you safe, got you out of BLI. I didn’t even know.”  
“You want to keep me safe now?”  
“Yeah, but I’m… I mean, do I even have a right to?”  
“Oh, Jet, you're adorable!” She grinned, reaching an arm to the back seat to take his hand.

Jet looked up as her fingers brushed his; the broad smile on her face bringing one to his. He stared expectantly, not knowing quite what to say. He had just bared his soul in front of two of his friends and was feeling somewhat awkward, especially given that at least Kobra was staring at him and Ghoul was snatching frequent glances in the mirror as he drove.

“Jet, of course you have the right,” she squeezed his hand. “But you’re really overdoing it, I have to say and, don’t be surprised if I tell you to back off, which is my right.”

Jet chuckled at the words; having looked after herself for years, Red was headstrong and independent and it shouldn't have come as a surprise to him that she was very much her own person, but it warmed his heart that she understood his feelings and concerns too.

“Deal,” he nodded, squeezing her hand in return.  
“Ghoul,” Red turned back. “As we’re all awake, let's have some music, eh?”


	26. No Fun Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party's torture continues and the rest of the guys head to a friend's to spend the night

Party looked at the door he had noticed earlier before the Bryzik had sent him to sleep, now staring at it, he noticed that there didn’t appear to be any method of opening it. It seemed strange to him that his cell had two doors and wondered again what was behind it. Pulling again at the restraints on both his wrists, he huffed with frustration as they held firm. Why did he need to be restrained? Both doors would be locked, it wasn’t as if he was going anywhere. What were they afraid he would do?

The door he had just been staring at began to open slowly. The fact of it making Party nervous; what was going to happen now? He had suffered through a fake interrogation, a truly torturous memory retrieval, sent to sleep then inexplicably woken again. Nothing seemed to make sense to him. What did they want? What did Korse want? Why go to all the trouble of capturing all of them only to allow them to escape and have them rescue an evil android version of himself? Was it really just to turn the Zones against them? Was he going to kill them and have everyone believe that he had turned? But if so, why did he need his memories?

Korse had told him that they would be hated and discredited. He had imagined that the android was going to cause chaos in the Zones by killing or disrupting supply runs, but even Korse had to know that the other Killjoys would stop him. At the very least they would think he'd been brainwashed and would restrain him in some way. It would all be over very quickly.

The answer came to him with a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The android was genuinely going to pass himself off as Party Poison. It would do all the things he would normally do, contact the people he would normally supply to or trade with. The information would be passed automatically to BLI and all the people who trusted them would be found and exterminated.

That’s what Korse meant when he talked about it causing havoc to the Zones. Their friends would be hunted, starved out and exterminated by BLI on information provided by the android. At some point someone would work out the connection and how BLI were finding them but no one would for a moment suspect an android, they would blame the Killjoys. They would probably be hunted within their own community of Zonerunners. He had to find a way to escape.

Through the door, much to his surprise, stepped Green PD68B, the porno droid he had met earlier before the interrogation.

“Green?” He queried, uncertain as she merely stood in the centre of the room staring unblinking ahead.

He didn’t even know if androids were programmed to blink, if not, maybe the guys would notice? Nobody could spend for than a few seconds in the desert environment without blinking regularly. It simply wasn't possible. It gave him a glimmer of hope.

“Green?” He ventured again, unnerved by her silence.

When they had first met, she had informed him that she was programmed to take care of him, but there was something about her stare and silence that made him wonder if her programming had been changed. He couldn’t help but be acutely aware that if she were to attack him in any way, he was helpless.

The door closed behind her and, without warning, all four walls, floor and ceiling suddenly lit up with a repeating moving hypnotic pattern display of circles moving inside others circles, spiralling to infinity as outer circles shrunk and grew all around them. The entire image was probably only about three feet across in all directions, but the pattern was constantly repeated across all surfaces making it hard for him to get a sense of where walls, floors and ceilings began and ended. Everything seemed to somehow merge, pull apart and turn at the same time, causing an instant and intense sense of nausea and disorientation in Party. It was as if the bed in which he lay was turning and moving back and forth and he repeatedly felt the need to try to stop himself falling as his senses told him he was being tipped over.

Distracted by the intense disorientation, Party was surprised as Green appeared alongside him and fastened a metal band tightly around his head, which covered his eyes. At first relieved that he could no longer see the disturbing patterns, he gasped as something attached itself to his eyelids, and what he soon realised were small clamps pulled the lids open forcefully, holding them wide. Sliding back a panel in the band, Green set a directional spray that would dampen his eyes periodically to prevent them drying.

Now forced to stare at the hypnotic display, Party didn’t even notice the injection he was given until the needle had already pierced the skin of his arm.

“Green, what are you doing? What was that?” His panicked voice called out, receiving no answer, not directly at least.

 

Green stood once more in the centre of the room and began speaking in a cold echoing, low voice accompanying by a deep thrumming sound that filled the room and vibrated in time with the moving circles.

“Welcome to Better Living Industries. We care about your wellbeing. Gone are the days when negative emotions ruled daily lives. With BLI brand medication, you will live a happier, more productive life. You do not need friends, thoughts, colour or emotions. All you need is BLI to take care of you. Allow us to help you live your life with a smile on your face always. Better Living Industries cares about your wellbeing.”

With only a few seconds pause, Green began again as the thrumming sound grew louder alongside her voice. With each pause and repeat of the statement, the volume increased until within only a few minutes, Party was screaming against the painful deafening roar. The drug she had injected him with made him feel lightheaded and now he was floating and spiralling within a void with waves of noise crashing all around him. The thrumming sound began to change in pitch and speed, increasing slowly at first but quickening with every passing moment until it became a high-pitched screech assaulting his ears. It began to feel as though every cell in his body was being pulled apart and somehow crushed at the same time. Even the sound of his own agonised screams turned back on him, taunting and hurting him.

Party could no longer see the circles but he still felt the twisting and spiralling motion of the bed. He felt as though instead of restraints, it was the unconscionable noise pressing him down and if only it would stop he could move. But if it did stop he would fall. Where would he fall to? Nowhere? To his death?

“Believe in BLI,” Green now began repeating a new statement. “BLI will take care of you. BLI cares about your wellbeing. You can trust BLI.”  
“No!” Party screamed, fighting against the drug, as a fine mist was sprayed into his eyes. “I will not… I… I will not trust… No,” he shook his head painfully as the metal band pressed against his skull. “I…”

The noise stopped abruptly and Party’s head fell back onto the pillow, he gasped for breath as his world continued to swirl and weave around him.

“Gerard?” Green began, taking a step closer.  
“Go away,” he mumbled, still lightheaded and nauseous.  
“It’s a very simple question, Gerard.” She replied coldly. “Don’t you want to see your brother again? Don't you want to see Mikey?”  
“You don’t have him,” he growled with intense effort. “I don’t believe you.”  
“No, Gerard, he’s not here, but you are. Don’t you want to see him again?”  
“You think I'm going to give him up to you?” He shook his head lightly. “Never!”

Green laughed; it was full of condescension and mockery.

“No, Gerard, that’s not what we expect from you.”  
“Then what…?”

The noise began again, filling his body with vibrations that made him feel that he might shatter at any moment. As the sound’s volume and intensity built once more, Party gritted his teeth as the pain grew, tearing at him like a thousand knives.

“What do you want from me?!” He screamed loudly in a broken, shattered voice.  
“Believe in BLI,” Green now began repeating again. “BLI will take care of you. BLI cares about your wellbeing. You can trust BLI.”

After what felt an eternity, the noise changed to a high, siren-like ‘ _wah-wah_ ’ sound and once again, Green’s statement changed. Delivered in the same cold metallic voice, now she merely repeated:

“You can trust BLI.”

Involuntary tears rolled down Party's cheeks in response to desperation and pain and he writhed against the restraints to no avail.

“No, no, no…” he whispered.

Exhausted, weak and in agony, Party tried hard to gather himself, to pull himself from the trance-like state the display and sounds were dragging him into, but the drug was clouding his ability to think clearly. It felt like it might be a losing battle but he clung on with grim determination. Another fine mist was sprayed into his eyes and the overwhelming feeling of distance from his own body led him to realise that there may also be a drug in the liquid being sprayed into his eyes.

It was possible that he lost consciousness at this point and was now dreaming but he couldn’t be certain. Nothing felt real and yet, he knew it had to be. Or, perhaps that was the other way around. Everything felt real but, perhaps it wasn't? He wasn’t certain any more.

_Korse was standing over him, smiling, laughing, taunting him. Mikey… no Kobra was there too, shaking his head in disappointment. He looked sad, let down. Ghoul… Frankie, dear Frankie touched his face, caressing his cheek before slapping him angrily. Jet stood back, his arms folded, refusing even to look at him._

_“No,” he whispered, “don’t. I can’t, I won’t give in.”  
“Oh, but you already have, Gerard,” Korse laughed. “You’re well on the way to betraying everyone who relies on you.”_

*

Ghoul parked the trans am in the underground garage beneath the shop where the deliveries arrived and switched off the engine, relieved to have arrived in one piece. He handed realised how tired he was until that last ten minutes and Red’s suggestion of music had been sheer genius. Not only had it kept them awake, but it had buoyed them, and they needed that.

The elevator opened and a tall, gangly woman with long straight brown hair and a long flowing orange dress with bright pink embroidery rushed forward to greet them.

“Oh! Guys!” She called cheerfully. “It’s so good to see you!”  
“Hey, Kami,” Jet grinned. Despite being weary and fit to drop, Kami’s enthusiasm was enough to lift all their spirits. There was simply something about her that radiated warmth and happiness.  
“Come on,” she ushered them into the room which was filled with bolts of material of all colours and fabrics. “I have some food for you, won’t take a minute to prepare. Are you hungry?” She asked with a giggle.  
“Kami,”Jet chuckled in response. “'Do you really need the answer to that?”  
“No, but I do need to know who this charming young lady is.”

She reached back behind Ghoul and pulled Red forward. Red looked with uncertainty towards Kobra and he gave a reassuring nod.

“My, my,” Kami turned Red around, stroking her hair as she did so - Red receiving another urgent nod from Kobra as a signal to accept the strange intrusion. “I’m Kami Kazee, my dear. Who might you be?”  
“My name’s Little Red.” She smiled, still excited to say the words: “I’m Jet’s sister.”  
“Jet’s sister?” She beamed. “Welcome to the family, my lovely!”  
“Oh!” Red raised her eyebrows. “You’re related?”  
“Kami’s family with everyone,” Ghoul stepped forward and pulled Kami close for a big hug, chuckling quietly to himself as she stroked his hair.  
“You have beautiful hair, Ghoul, you really need to look after it better you know?”  
“How, Kami?” Ghoul pulled back, grinning. “We live in the desert with barely any water and no supplies.”  
“Well now, look at Jet and that fine mane of his,” Kami moved over to caress his curls. “He manages just fine.”  
“Don’t worry, Kami, I’ll teach him,” Jet smiled broadly.  
“Where’s Party?” She frowned turning her eyes to look at Kobra and seeing the deep pain in his eyes as she asked the question.  
“It’s a long story, but BLI have got him,” Jet replied. “We need to rest a bit before going in to rescue him. Can we sleep on your floor?”  
“You can have anything you want, Jet,” Kami frowned deeper. “I don’t want you sleeping on the floor though, that won’t help at all. We’ll lay out some bolts of fabric and cushions. It’ll be the best night’s sleep you've ever had. And I’ll get some food ready for you. If you’re going in there, you’re going in prepared.”

She reached across to Kobra and squeezed his hand.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” she nodded. “He’s strong.”

Turning to Ghoul, she tipped her head to the right and offered a sympathetic smile before planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Come through and make yourselves at home. I’m going to look after you, don’t worry.”  
“Thanks, Kami,” Jet gave her a brief hug before she led the way through to her living quarters.  
“She’s a bit eccentric,” Kobra explained quietly to Red as they followed.  
“I gathered,” Red raised an eyebrow, “but she seems nice.”  
“She’s lovely,” Kobra nodded with a smile.


	27. I Was Wondering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fielding does her own research and Red makes an announcement

Doctor Fielding checked her watch; it was now over thirty minutes since she had spoken to Korse and she had spent the time researching The Killjoys and Party Poison in particular. There were many newspaper reports of theft attributed to them, usually food, bottled water and medicine. The articles in the newspapers portrayed them as living the high life somewhere out in the desert, eating like princes on supplies meant for the hard working people of Battery City and selling the stolen medical supplies at inflated prices to amass a great fortune. The picture painted was very much one of evil, gluttonous sadists seated on golden thrones, squeezing the life out of Zone dwellers and trying to destroy BLI for the purpose of taking over. One article in the Battery City Pulse newspaper - a somewhat disreputable rag - drew her attention.

**_Exclusive: Interview with Party Poison_ **

_Yes, folks, you read that right. Our reporter, Carolina James, after months of delicate negotiations managed to secure an interview with that notorious rebel, thief and self-proclaimed freedom-fighter, Party Poison of The Fabulous Killjoys. Below is a full, no-holds-barred transcript of that interview and believe us, folks, when we say it’s as revealing as it is shocking._

_Hello readers, I'm Carolina James and today I've been granted a brief interview with the notorious criminal who calls himself Party Poison. Meeting him today I've observed an arrogant, selfish, power-hungry man, willing to risk everything for personal power and wealth. As he sat before me, well fed and immaculately dressed, clearly from having taken advantage of those he has stolen from or denied supplies to, he pontificates about his purpose and assumed status in life and over Battery City. This is, indeed, a man to be feared, but don’t just take my word for it - here are his:_

_CJ: Party Poison, why don’t you use your real name? Why hide behind a fake identity?_  
_PP: I don’t just work the desert, I have people working within Battery City too and if you knew my real name, their covers might just be blown too. We’ve worked too hard to bring down BLI to risk that._  
_CJ: So your ultimate goal is to bring down BLI? Can you tell me what it is that you hate so much?_  
_PP: BLI controls every aspect of Battery City. They have far too much power, it’s not good for any one organisation to wield so much power._  
_CJ: The citizens are always happy, healthy and well looked after. Isn’t that a positive outcome?_  
_PP: We have the welfare of the citizens at heart, and we don’t believe that BLI do._  
_CJ: And yet the citizens **are** happy._  
_PP: Happiness is relative and a little suffering isn’t necessarily a bad thing._  
_CJ: Is that what you want? Suffering?_  
_PP: When we crush BLI and take over, the first to suffer will be those who helped to maintain their order. The rest of the citizens are able to fend for themselves._  
_CJ: So, that’s what you really want? Power?_  
_PP: Of course, who doesn’t want power? And of course, that other precious commodity - wealth._  
_CJ: You’re already stealing from BLI, what is your personal wealth?_  
_PP: I have enough to maintain a grip on the Zones from the control of food supplies and the sale of medical supplies and illegal drugs._  
_CJ: So you hate BLI’s control, but you don’t condemn your own?_  
_PP: It’s a means to an end. Sometimes you have to use enemy tactics to overthrow them._  
_CJ: And if you manage, what then?_  
_PP: We take over. The citizens have nothing to fear from us. The aftermath is not secondary; we **are** the aftermath. We will succeed, we will crush BLI and Battery City will be free of their pernicious influence. True life comes from disorder and uncertainty, not mindless obedience and contrived safety. We will take back the city and make it free once more._  
_CJ: And people will die?_  
_PP: Of course, but only those who try to prevent the break with BLI’s tyranny. An enemy stabs you in the back, but only a true friend can stab you in the front._

These were almost certainly not the words of the man she had spoken to. This and possibly all articles were fictitious; it made her wonder what BLI was afraid of. The Zone dwellers generally refused the BLI drugs. By doing that, she knew from experience, allowed them to think for themselves. If Party was telling the truth, BLI were trying to starve the citizens living in the Zones, to deny them basic rights and essential commodities.

What was it exactly that BLI were afraid of if the Killjoys were only wanted because they were helping citizens in the Zones to survive? Was it that BLI wanted to stop the spread of people refusing their drugs? Was free thinking that dangerous to them? Even if it wasn’t, they clearly thought it was. But now, what of her own thoughts? They were free and with the ideas now dancing through her mind, she realised that she too would be considered dangerous.

His words about using her training to torture and kill instead of healing the sick kept eating away at her. He was right; this was not what she had trained for. There were thoughts she was desperately trying to keep at bay. They risked her livelihood, her position, her home and even her life, but they refused to be subdued. She had to help him.

Closing the site, she switched off private browsing and looked at her watch again. She was twenty minutes early but she decided she would go to his cell early, she needed to talk to him. There was only one way, she needed to get him out of his cell.

*

“Jet, sweetheart, you never told me you had a sister,” Kami opened. “Tell me more.”  
“I couldn’t tell you before, I didn’t know,” Jet replied with a cheerful exaggerated shrug. “You know I had missing memories, well, Red was one of them.”  
“Oh, you poor dears,” Kami shook her head.  
“It was a chance meeting, though,” Jet explained.  
Kami shook her head lightly. “There are no ‘chance’ anythings, Jet, my love. But I’m so happy you found each other.”  
“So,” Red began as Kami led the way into her living quarters. “What do you do?”  
“I make clothes,” Kami replied brightly as she indicated to them all to sit on a mismatched collection of couches, all covered with a variety of brightly covered throws. “Would you like some?”  
“Oh,” Red laughed, shaking her head and settling down into the lime green covered couch. “I don’t have a single carbon to my name. But thank you.”  
“You don’t need any money.”

Kami chuckled, leaning on the back of another couch and running her fingers through Ghoul’s hair as Jet sat down next to him on the opposite couch. Red raised an eyebrow as he didn’t even flinch.

“You have the best currency there is.” Kami grinned earning a quizzical stare from Red. “Anything for Jet’s sister.”  
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Red looked from Kami to Jet and back again. “That wouldn’t be right.”  
“Nonsense!” Kami beamed. “I’ll get some food ready, everyone just relax, I'll be back in a few minutes.”  
“Do you want any help,” Ghoul asked over his shoulder as she continued to play with his hair.  
“Not necessary, sweetheart,” she replied, kissing the top of his head and frowning slightly. “You just relax, but you can wash your hair tomorrow.”  
“Kami!” Ghoul shook his head in exasperation.  
“You will, Ghoul, or no food for you now.”  
“All right, all right!”  
“Promise?”  
“All right!” He sighed.

Red turned her gaze once more to Jet as Kami headed from the room; he knew what she wanted to say and was already smiling as she looked at him.

“Don't worry, we’ll find something to give her in exchange,” Jet nodded.

Red was still uncertain; they had so little to give, it didn’t seem right that they should find something to give to Kami to exchange for something as frivolous as clothes.

“Jet, I'm not…”

Red was interrupted by Kobra flopping, almost bouncing, onto the couch next to her.

“Here’s the thing, Red,” he opened, as if beginning serious negotiations. “You’re one of us now, so we’re assuming, well hoping, you’re gonna stay with us and you’ll need a change of clothes anyway. We’ve all got other clothes, you should too.”  
“You can see why she’d be confused, though, Kobra,” Ghoul cut in with a wicked smirk plastered across his face. “Either all your clothes are the same or you do only wear one shirt, all the time!”  
“Hey!” He complained. “I have another shirt!”  
“The green one,” Jet reminded, grinning as he waved a finger in the air.  
“Oh, yeah!” Ghoul rolled his eyes. “That was your go to shirt before you realised that material was supposed to be able to fold.”  
“What do you mean?” Kobra pouted.  
“That shirt walked itself to the laundry!” Ghoul grinned back.  
“Don’t listen to them.”

Kobra turned to Red and noticing her sucking her bottom lip into her mouth in a desperate attempt not to laugh, he sighed and felt his shoulders sag.

“Anyway!” he stared at Ghoul and Jet, defying them to say another word on his hygiene in front of someone he was trying to impress. “I think you’ll need some new clothes. I'm surprised you don’t have any.”  
“I did have,” Red admitted. “I had a backpack, it was stolen.”  
“When?” Jet asked concerned. “Were you hurt?”

Red smiled reassuringly as Jet followed the question with an uncertain frown; wondering if he was being too protective again.

“No, well, not by the thief anyway. It was just before I found the trans am. When that explosion happened, I was knocked flat, knocked out in fact. I had it then, but when I woke up it was gone. Actually, that might explain why my shoulder was sore. I assumed I'd fallen badly in the explosion, but maybe not.”  
“Someone ripped it off you?” Kobra asked.  
“Yeah, and left me to die,” she shrugged. “Did me a favour though, as it turned out. I might have kept walking otherwise.” She added with a happy smile.  
“So, my dear,” Kami began as she reentered the room carrying a large tray with steaming bowls of hot something that smelled too good to be true. As she walked near, all four barely heard her next words. “Have you decided what you’d like?”  
“Um,” Red began, distracted by the wonderful aromas drifting to the couches from the tray.

She tried to remember the last time she ate something, finally realising it had been breakfast the morning Party had been captured. That had been so long ago and the scent of food - real food - wafting over her was causing her ability to concentrate to fail hopelessly. Kami noticed that all four of her guests were lost to the smell of the food, each of them almost hypnotised and transfixed.

“I think we should eat first, don’t you?” Kami giggled.

Placing the tray down on the table in the centre of the arrangement of couches, it broke her heart to see how painfully hungry they all were. It was particularly galling considering that Battery City newspapers, which would often make it out to Zone One, invariably portrayed the Killjoys as mercenaries, cutting off supplies to the outer zones to keep shipments of food and drugs for themselves or to sell to maintain control. If even a single one of the articles were to be believed, they would not be sitting in front of her virtually passing out from just the smell of food.

“This is vegetable chilli,” she pointed to one large bowl, offering a wink toward Ghoul. “This is beef chilli,” she pointed to a second bowl.  
“Beef?” Jet’s head snapped up. “What, like, real beef?”  
“Anything for you guys,” Kami smiled.  
“Where did you…?” Jet was lost for words; even the cans of Power Pup they frequently consumed merely to stay alive contained some sort of poor quality meat substitute. It had been so long since he had eaten any meat at all, but beef was a particular luxury.  
“I have my sources, Jet,” Kami laughed. “I also have rice, salad and potatoes, I’ll fetch them in now,” she grinned at their astonished expressions. “I told you, if you’re going into BLI, you’re going in prepared.”  
“Thanks, Kami…” Ghoul gasped at her generosity. “I can’t even…”  
“Just eat, Ghoul, you look like you need it, all of you. You’re skin and bone!”

Kami continued to bring a selection of bowls, plates and serving spoons and other cutlery into the room. Kobra’s eyes lit up when a basket of bread arrived; he couldn’t remember the last time he had even seen bread, never mind tasted it. But it was when Kami returned carrying bottled water that the Killjoys almost choked in surprise. Red stared up at this joyous, generous woman who was not just happy to look after them, but genuinely seemed to glean a great deal of pleasure from it. Even though Kami didn’t know her, she had treated Red as if she were family and made her feel welcome and at home. Helping herself to a respectful amount of food, Red took a few slow forkfuls. Chewing almost in slow motion her eyes’ focus had drifted more to another time than a place. It was only when she held her fork hovering about an inch above her plate that anyone noticed.

Ghoul nudged Jet gently with his elbow and nodded toward the silent woman with the distant thoughtful expression on the opposite couch.

“Sis?” Jet ventured, drawing an immediate smile from Red and a soft pink blush to her cheeks. “You okay?”  
“Yeah,” she replied, pursing her lips. Placing her fork down gently on the plate, she took a breath. “I was wondering, but I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything,” she continued without explaining. “I mean, I’d like to, but, if you’re not keen, that’s okay too.”  
Jet’s brow furrowed lightly. “'Wondering what?” He asked carefully.  
“I was thinking it might be nice to change my name.”

Jet appeared thoughtful for a moment.

“Well, it’s your name,” he shrugged.  
“Well that’s just it,” she answered cryptically. “Not entirely.”

Jet merely shrugged his lack of understanding, but Kami understood and was already beaming with joy.

“I was thinking of changing it to Red Star,” she ventured, chewing lightly on her lip.


	28. Extremes of Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jet's response to Red's announcement and Fielding makes a shocking discovery

_“I was thinking of changing it to Red Star,” she ventured, chewing lightly on her lip._

Jet rested his fork down on his plate and raised his hand to cover his mouth, choked with bubbling emotion and delight. His eyes misted over until he could no longer see, but what he was missing was the newly developed worried frown taking over Red’s face as Jet seemed unable to answer.

“Dude,” Ghoul whispered. “Say something.”  
“I can’t.”

Jet’s voice was subdued and cracked. Hurriedly placing his plate on the table, he scrambled to his feet and pulled Red from the couch; Kobra managing to grab her plate and fork before it was accidentally dropped or tipped. Jet held her arms almost at arms length, staring down with a quivering smile. Still uncertain, Red looked up as Jet’s tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“This is the second time in two days I've cried,” his voice emerged sounding scratchy and broken. “And on both occasions it's been because I was too happy to express myself any other way.”  
“So you don’t mind?” Red asked with a little less hesitation in her voice.  
“Mind?” Jet finally laughed, realising that she had been unsure. “Oh, Red, I love you! I couldn’t be happier! It means so much…” he paused. “It means everything to me that we’ve found each other again and… well, changing your name might not seem like a big deal to some, but it is to me. We’re a real family again!”

Red pulled him close, burying her head in his chest. It was almost as if she couldn’t quite get close enough to him, seeming to want to almost merge with him. Through his shirt, Jet felt the dampness caused by the spilling of her own tears. Moving one of his hands from her back, Jet placed two fingers under her chin and guided her head until she looked up at him, his smiling face a mere blur to her.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently.  
“I’m good,” she croaked, giggling as she spoke the words. “Better than good,” she grinned, breaking into a laugh as she pulled him closer again.

Jet smoothed her hair, gently rocking her, as the pair stood, surrounded by their friends simply staring with huge silly grins at them.

“Jet?” Red whispered.  
“Yeah?” He answered quietly, lowering his head to kiss hers and moving her hair from in front of her eyes.  
“What’s our last name?” She spoke even quieter this time.

Jet gave a quiet laugh as he kissed her hair once more. She was clearly trying to maintain secrecy, but the decision to change her name had triggered questions that very suddenly needed immediate answers. Lowering his head to whisper in her ear, despite the fact that everyone in the room was aware of his name, including Kami.

“It’s Toro, sweetheart. Ray and Scarlet Toro.”  
“Jet and Red Star,” she replied with a twinkle in her eyes.

Years without each other, even with Jet’s missing memories, had left them both feeling lost and as if a gaping void existed in their hearts. Now filled and overflowing with comfort and joy, brother and sister clung to each other in their happiness and revelling in pure delight.

“So, Kobra,” Ghoul raised an mischievous eyebrow, “what’s it going to be? Kobra Poison or Party Kid?”

Kobra scowled, unimpressed by Ghoul’s flippant question. In contrast, Jet and Red both grinned in Ghoul’s direction first, before turning to Kobra; their eyes lingering, waiting for a reply.

“Neither!” He grumbled, shaking his head in dismay, while smiling at the same time.

Ghoul beamed at him; equipped with an irrepressible and playful ability to tease, he often crossed a line and stepped a little too far but somehow his impish charm mostly saved him from angering anyone. This was one such occasion and Kobra was soon shaking his head with amused disbelief.

“I’ll ask you the same question if and when you ever make an honest man of my brother!”  
Ghoul chuckled. “Oh, definitely Party Ghoul.”  
“You’ve discussed it?” Jet asked.  
“No need,” Ghoul shrugged. “He knows who’s in charge.”

Fun Ghoul gasped in disgruntled surprise as all of them laughed.

“Don’t let the food go cold,” Kami suggested with a light laugh, enjoying the good natured banter.  
“Definitely!” Ghoul grinned as he sat once more and reached for his plate.

Jet gave Red a gentle squeeze as he released her from the hug. Settling down once more, the four found themselves letting go of much of the tension that had built in them over the previous few days. Kami smiled; they would need to be in good spirits and physically fit to attempt a rescue but they seemed well on their way. Now, they just needed to rest.

*

Doctor Fielding ran the length of the corridor towards Party’s cell. She had heard the screaming before she had even opened the door but now, even from this distance, she could hear the pain and terror in his voice. As she arrived, a BLI smiley-faced hooded guard blocked her entry.

“Open the door!” She insisted as the guard stood blocking her way.  
“I’m sorry, doctor, I can't do that. He’s not to be disturbed.”  
“Disturbed!” She yelled, shoving the guard. “'Can you not hear him? That is someone who is more than disturbed! He’s my patient, open the door, now!”  
“I’m sorry, I…”  
“Can’t? On whose orders? I'm not going to be the one to explain it to Korse if he dies in there!”  
“It’s Exterminator Korse’s orders, ma’am.”  
“And I have my orders from him too! I have to increase his medication! Do I have to go to Korse and tell him you're delaying his plans?”  
“No, ma’am, but…”  
“Look, I have his orders, right here!”

She reached into her medical bag and withdrew a pre-filled syringe, jamming it into the guard’s leg and quickly pressing the plunger. The guard turned, trying to pull her away from the door, but quickly realised that the drug was fast acting and he stumbled dizzily. Reaching for his belt toward an alarm, the guard found his arm yanked away and pressed against the wall. With her other arm, she landed as hard a blow as she could muster, winding him, and disabling him further. Watching him crumple to the floor, she punched in the code to open the door and gasped at the sight that presented itself.

Pulling the unconscious guard into the cell and closing the door, Fielding took in the horrifying scene: the hypnotic swirling patterns that made even her feel dizzy, the low rumbling sounds that seemed to cause everything in the room to vibrate, the overlying deafening high-pitched siren sound, the constant chant emerging from the porno droid who, apart from the movement of her mouth, was standing as still as a statue. Worst of all, the clearly drugged man with his eyes forced open, screaming and writhing whilst still restrained on the bed. The terror in his eyes and his desperation to escape from some unseen nightmare horrified her. Stepping up to the porno droid, Fielding yelled a command over the cacophony.

“Medical override, Fielding two two sixty-four F. Cease all action.”  
“Medical override acknowledged.”

The room fell into silence in a moment, at least after the deafening roar that had existed only seconds before, it felt like silence. As Fielding’s ears adjusted, she began to hear a quiet whimpering sound coming from behind her. Turning, she saw Party still cowering as much as he was able on the bed, staring at an invisible figure on the other side of the room.

“Party?” She spoke soothingly. “What’s wrong, what can you see?”  
“M-make him go away,” he replied in what sounded like a child’s voice, tears rolling freely down his cheeks.  
“Party?” She worked quickly to remove the head and eye restraint. “Who is it, who can you see?”  
“M-my n-name’s Gerard,” he replied still with a very soft and uncertain tone.  
“Okay, Gerard,” she stroked his sweat soaked hair soothingly. “You’re safe now, he’s going to leave. Can you see him leaving?”

He nodded slightly, hiccuping as he released his fear and began to calm.

“Has he gone now?” She asked gently. “Tell me when he’s gone.”

Party paused for a few seconds before shrinking back into the bed once more, turning his head away and closing his eyes tightly.

“Make him go!” He wailed, more tears springing to his eyes.

Fielding frowned; whatever or whoever this was that Party could see, it was a strong and terrifying vision.

“Take a look, Gerard,” she cupped his cheek. “He’s gone now.”

Party looked up, barely daring to open his eyes, but when he did, the relief that settled over his face was obvious. Finally, she had convinced him that his nightmare had left.

“Who was it, Gerard?” She asked, curious as to what could have been so terrifying. “Don’t worry, he won’t come back.”  
“Uncle Grant,” he whispered with a shake in his still small voice.  
“Uncle Grant? Why are you afraid of him, Gerard?”  
“H-he killed my dad a-and he took Mikey. I don’t know where he is. He w-won’t let me see him.”  
“Who’s Mikey?” She asked softly.  
“My little brother,” he hiccuped again.  
“How old are you, Gerard?” She asked, frowning with concern.  
“I’m ten, Mikey's six.”  
“Where are you?” She continued to stroke his hair, it seemed to be helping the ‘boy’ calm down.  
“He’s just brought us to a big building with smiley faces on the side, but I don’t know where Mikey is,” he replied, bordering on growing upset again.  
“Don’t worry, Gerard, I’m sure Mikey is safe. You’re safe now too.”

Party managed a faint smile as he looked up at the doctor.

“He told me I had to call him Korse, but I don’t know why.”

Fielding wasn't sure how she managed it, but for the sake of the ‘boy’ lying next to her, she held her face in the same expression, offering a kind smile. Underneath, she was shocked by the revelation. Immediately it explained Korse’s obsession with the rebel. It also explained a great deal more - why he was going through a sham interrogation, why he was only loosely following BLI procedures pertaining to treatment of rebels and political prisoners. Most of all, it explained why he was pushing for Party's complete destruction. Finding him suffering hypnotic regression torture in her absence was clearly not something she was meant to do. Her minimal research had told her that Party wasn’t the monster he had been painted. Korse, on the other hand, was breaking what few rules there were. He had only made a show of trying to extract useful information from him, the rest was taking personal revenge out of bitter hatred.

“Don’t worry about him, Gerard. Why don’t you rest now?”

Party nodded and closed his eyes; for the first time in a long time, he settled back onto the bed and relaxed. Getting to her feet, Fielding approached Green.

“What is your current programming?”  
“Hypnotic regression and suggestion.” Green responded.  
“You took him back to aged ten?” Fielding asked.  
“Yes, doctor.”  
“And the suggestion?”  
“Trust in the BLI mission statement.”  
“What drugs was he given?”  
“Apoxydiphyolate 50mg and Varsill 60mg.”

Fielding fumed at the reply. She had believed she had convinced Korse to allow her to increase the dosage of Varsill slowly, as it needed to be. But here he was having been given sixty milligrams already, with Korse under the full knowledge that she intended to administer another twenty. Continued doses along with the Hallsig being used to keep him awake would have driven him insane after only a few days. She was fairly certain that without further doses, Party would recover from this episode, but it would take some time. Time that she knew he would not have if he remained a prisoner. Her mind was made up.

“What was your previous programming?” She asked Green.  
“Companion to Gerard and to protect him.”  
“Revert to that programme, confirmation code Fielding seven nine zero two, emergency override.”  
“Reverting.”

It was only a matter of moments before Green emerged from her fixed glazed expression and looked from Fielding to Gerard and back again.

“I want you to help me get him out of here,” Fielding instructed. “I’ll remove his restraints, can you remove the guard’s BLI uniform? We’re going to walk him out in plain view and with that hood on, no one will suspect a thing.”


	29. Red's New Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red's new clothes spark an argument that leads to another secret being disclosed

Dr Fielding helped Party to sit up. She frowned at how weak and afraid he was, especially as it had been partly her fault. The hypnotic regression torture had left him believing that he was only ten years old, reliving his most painful memories over and over and even though she felt foolish speaking softly and carefully to a grown man, she knew that she had to in order to help him escape.

“Now then, Gerard, how are you feeling?”

Party swallowed hard and nodded. He had grown used to being brave for Mikey’s sake and this felt like one of those times when he had to be grown up again.

“I’m okay.”  
“Are you sure? I need you to be very brave, Gerard. Do you think you can manage that?”  
“Yes,” he nodded with a little uncertainty.  
“I’m going to get you out of here,” she nodded, hoping the confirmation would help him to accept that it was possible. “No one will hurt you any more, okay?”  
“But… what about Mikey?” Party’s eyes flashed with panic. “He still has Mikey.”  
“No, he doesn’t. Mikey's safe.”

Fielding shook her head firmly, desperately hoping he would believe her. Whoever Mikey was, she knew that at the very least he was not Korse’s prisoner too. She just hoped that Party would emerge from his regressed state before she had to tell him that she had very likely lied to him.

“Really?” Party’s expression lit up with excitement and happiness. “He’s really safe? Can I see him?”  
“We have to get you out of here first.” She nodded, hating that she was lying to him. “Are you ready?”  
“Yes,” Party nodded enthusiastically.

Fielding turned to see the uniform lying in a neat bundle on the floor and Green poised, waiting to restrain the guard on the bed, once Party had moved.

“Thank you,” Fielding nodded, pressing the uniform into Party’s hands. “Come on, we don’t have much time. Gerard, I want you to put this on.”

Getting to her feet as Party began to don the uniform, Fielding turned to Green and pointed to the still open door through which the droid had emerged earlier.

“Where does that lead?” She asked hurriedly.  
“Ultimately to the laboratories and the Memory Chamber, depending on which way you turn.”  
“The laboratories I know, and I know how to get out from there.”

It seemed almost an afterthought and Fielding frowned deeply as she turned back to Green.

“Are you able to access the system and disable the cameras in here and _en route_ to the laboratories?”  
“Yes, I can do that,” Green confirmed. “It will take a few moments.”  
“How are you doing, Gerard?”  
“I’m ready,” Party replied rolling up the material on the sleeves a few inches and tucking it inside the cuff.  
“Good. Green?”  
“Done, all cameras disabled.”

*

“When they come out, make sure you don’t kill the prisoner!” Korse yelled as he and four draculoids reached the corridor housing Party’s cell.

A crackle on his communicator caught his attention.

“Yes?” He snapped.  
“Sir, the last we caught before the cameras went off was they they were heading for the laboratories.”  
“Excellent,” he smiled. “Dispatch a contingent of draculoids to the laboratories to cut them off. We’ll follow them from here. They’ll be caught in the middle.”  
“Yes, sir.”

Korse drew up alongside the draculoids outside the cell.

“They’ve apparently gone through the other door to the laboratories,” he drew his gun, ready to fight. “We have draculoids there, we have their escape cut off. Open the door and let's get our errant doctor back under control.”

*

“So, Red Star,” Kami smiled once they had completed what to them had been nothing short of a banquet. “What clothes would you like to choose?”  
“Well, I suppose…” Red looked at Jet for help, she had no idea what was reasonable to ask for. “I guess a change of shirt maybe?”  
“Oh, bless you, you’re so sweet!” Kami grinned, resting on the arm of the sofa on which Jet was sitting, absently playing with his hair. “Jet, your sister is adorable.”  
“It runs in the family, Kami,” Jet grinned earning a slight tug on one of his curls.  
“Come on, my love,” she extended a hand to Red as she stood up. “Let’s see if we can’t get you kitted out. Kobra mentioned that you’re wearing everything you own and we can’t have that, can we? Us girls have got to have a selection of beautiful things, especially if we want to have tongues hanging out.”  
“She manages that with what she has,” Kobra replied, flushing a bright red as he realised he’d not only said it out loud, but in front of Jet and Ghoul.  
“Kobra,” Jet folded his arms as Ghoul chuckled quietly to himself. “I think we need to have a little talk, don’t you?”  
‘Umm, yeah, okay,” he replied with uncertainty as a smirking Red was led from the room by Kami.

Kobra turned a glare toward Ghoul who had begun laughing openly now.

“Maybe I should voice my objections to Party about his choice in partner?” Kobra snapped at Ghoul, trying now not to meet Jet’s questioning eyes.  
“Perhaps, Kobra,” Ghoul began, his laughter fading into a broad mischievous smile, “Jet’s concerned about your lack of subtlety? Or more likely, your reputation?”  
“My reputation!” Kobra spluttered. “There’s nothing…”  
“You’re not called the _snake_ _charmer_ for nothing, you know,” Ghoul smirked.  
“Only you call me that!” Kobra objected.  
“For a reason!” Ghoul retorted.  
“Kobra,” Jet got to his feet, refusing to be ignored any further. “Let’s step outside, shall we?”  
“Er… yeah, okay,” Kobra replied quietly.

The words sounded ominous and briefly the question of whether he should fight back if Jet decided to beat him up crossed his mind. He knew, deep down, that with his martial arts skills, he ought to win, but Jet threw one hell of a right hook and angry Jet even more so. Following him outside it was as if Kobra had only now noticed how much broader Jet was, and he found his fists clenching as Ghoul called after them.

“Don’t get into it without letting me watch,” he laughed. “I could do with a good show.”

Ghoul leaned forward and scoured the table for leftovers. Finding a few uneaten potatoes, he fished them from the bowl and sat back. He couldn’t remember feeling this full, ever. Closing his eyes, he didn’t even feel himself fall asleep.

*

“Jet,” Kobra offered his friend an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean…”  
“Kobra, you did,” Jet spoke calmly. “You know you did.”  
“No, Jet, really…”  
“At least, I hope you meant it, because if you’re just messing with my sister’s feelings, I am not going to be impressed.”  
“Oh!” Kobra appeared thoughtful, rather than worried. “Jet, I’m not messing with Red’s feelings, I really do care about her.”  
“Ghoul mentioned your reputation,” Jet began solemnly. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that we’re all aware of it.”  
“This is different,” Kobra insisted.  
“How so?” Jet raised an eyebrow.  
“Because I’d never do anything to hurt either of you,” Kobra’s expression now matched Jet’s for sincerity.  
“Good, because if you do hurt her, I’ll break your legs. Deal?”  
“Seems more than fair,” Kobra nodded, extending his arm to shake Jet’s proffered hand.  
“So, when’s the wedding?” Jet asked, tilting his head.  
“The… what?” Kobra’s eyes widened.  
“You’re already backing out of this?” Jet growled angrily.  
“No… I … oh, I guess…”  
“Relax,” Jet chuckled. “I’m just kidding. Your face though!” Jet beamed at the now pouting man.  
“Not funny, man!” Kobra grumbled.  
“It is from where I'm standing!” Jet slapped him on the back as the two men headed back inside. “Go help her pick out some clothes, you know she’ll want your opinion.”  
“Thanks, Jet, I feel much happier knowing you approve,” Kobra nodded.  
“In all seriousness, Kobra, if my sister is going to be with anyone, I can’t imagine anyone better for her than one of my best friends. I'm happy for you both, dude.”

Jet took a seat on the sofa once more as Kobra walked toward the shop front to meet Kami and Red. Glancing over at the gently snoring Ghoul, Jet chuckled to himself - he had the right idea. Leaning back he allowed himself the same luxury of sleep.

*

“Hey, Kami,” Kobra called. “How’s it going?”  
“Ah, your young lady has excellent taste.”  
“Thanks,” Kobra beamed.  
“I meant her taste in clothes, Kobra, sweetheart,” Kami laughed.  
“I know,” Kobra grinned at the retort.  
“I’m your _young_ _lady_ now, am I?” Red poked her head through the changing room curtains.

Kobra licked his lips as he admired Red’s mussed hair, knowing she had either taken something off, put something on or both.

“What? See something you like?” She asked teasingly.

Moving forward quickly, Kobra pushed his arms through the curtain and pulled her close, kissing her urgently. Within seconds, her hands were in his hair and around his waist pulling him closer until their hips met.

“Call me if you need me,” Kami laughed softly as she excused herself and returned to the living room in which Jet and Ghoul were both sleeping.

Only when he relaxed into the moment did he realise that his hands had settled on bare flesh. Raising one hand to run through her soft blonde hair, he sighed into the kiss as she ran her tongue across his lips. Delighted that she wanted him with as much passion as his own, he parted his lips, allowing their tongues to explore each other for the first time.

After a few minutes, Red pulled slowly back from the kiss, their lips almost objecting to parting as they hung on until the very last moment. Kobra’s eyes settled on Red’s as his lips curled up into a happy smile.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Red tilted her head.  
“I thought I had,” Kobra grinned. “'Let me try again,” he added moving closer once more.  
“Ah!” Red placed a finger across his lips. “A man of action, not words?”

Kobra lowered his eyes, taking in her pale skin, only now realising she was standing in only her underwear. He swallowed thickly as he tried not to react, but his eyes gave everything away.

“You really are beautiful, you know,” he said tenderly.

Running a hand across his cheek and down his sculptured jaw line, Red’s expression gave him the answer he was looking for long before she spoke.

“What can I say, Mikeyway, you’re like some sort of Greek God.”  
“Oh? Which one?” He asked with a grin. “Adonis? Eros?”  
“I was thinking Hermes, Divine Trickster and God of Thieves.”

Kobra’s grin fell into a lopsided smirk and he raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, it’s like that is it?” He asked, pulling her closer once more.  
“You're a handsome man, Kobra, but you're hardly a subtle one.”

Laughing softly, Kobra ran his hands down her arms, pausing as he recognised a faded scar on her right forearm.

“Oh, I remember this,” he smiled. “You broke your arm in training. It was a nasty break too, it came right through your skin. You were what? Ten?”  
“Eight,” she corrected.  
“I was really worried about you,” he lowered his eyes. “And if I'm honest, I was worried I was going to get into trouble for letting you do it.”  
“You didn’t let me do it, though. If I recall, your exact words to me were: ‘Don’t even try it, Scarlet, you’ll hurt yourself’. But being the defiant eight year old I was, I did it anyway.”  
“Defiant eight year old?” He laughed. “When did you stop?”

Red thumped him playfully on the arm, pouting at the comment briefly, before running a thoughtful finger down the length of the scar as she thought back to the painful and frightening incident.

“I still don’t know how I didn’t get into trouble,” he shrugged.  
“Because I told the Sensei that it was entirely my fault on the way to the hospital,” she replied.  
“You risked getting kicked out of the class?” Kobra stared at her, stunned at her maturity at so young an age.  
“Of course!” Red replied. “I couldn’t risk you being thrown out, could I?”  
“You’re amazing!” He smiled.  
“You visited me every day,” she smiled in return. “I knew you were special even then.”  
“Are you going to tell me about these?” He asked running his fingers across another deeper, fresher set of scars over her left collar bone, noting that there were also some across her shoulder blade.”  
“Later, maybe, now’s not the time. Do you mind?”  
“Not at all, whenever your ready.” He replied in a comforting tone. “Once we’ve rescued Party and everything is good again, I’m going to give thanks that Candi turned traitor, because without her, you wouldn’t be here right now.”  
“And we _will_ rescue Party and everything _will_ be all right again,” she replied squeezing his hand and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “Now, help me choose some clothes. I want to look good when we kick some draculoid ass tomorrow.”  
“Aren’t you worried what my taste in clothes might be like?”  
“No,” she shook her head with a grin as she pulled on a close fitting, low cut, green jersey top with spaghetti straps and very little back.  
“No,” he almost choked on the word as he admired how it clung to her, “we seem to have similar tastes.”  
“Kami said I could have a whole new outfit,” Red beamed. “Can you hand me those pants, please?”

Kobra turned, and following the line of her finger crossed over to a rail of clothes with a pair of slightly stretchy blue acid wash jeans that were so faded as to be almost white.

“These?” Kobra checked before picking them up.  
“Yeah,” Red replied. “Do you like them?”  
“Yeah, they look nice,” he replied as he handed them over.

Watching as she pulled them on, his expression brightened. It was one of those moments when something looked nice on the hanger, but so much better when worn. The dip of the waistband skimmed the hem of the green top as it rested over her hips, the legs tapering like a second skin.

“Oh, yes,” he nodded his approval. “Are they comfortable? I mean, can you fight in them?”

There wasn’t a great deal of room in the changing area, but just to be certain, Red performed a series of high kicks and twists to test the stretch in the material. Not only did they allow very free movement but the fabric seemed to settle back into place without adjustment immediately after.

“Probably the comfiest pants I've ever had,” Red grinned happily, admiring them in the mirror.  
“And the sexiest too,” he added, reaching for her again.  
“Ah, ah,” she wagged her finger. “I need to pick out a jacket.”

Red headed for one rail as Kobra looked at another. Rifling slowly through the items, Kobra pulled out a bright red jacket, not dissimilar to his own, holding it up to get an impression of how it might look.

“Think again!” Red cut through his deliberations.  
“What? It’s nice!” He protested.  
“If you think we’re wearing his and hers matching jackets, you are mistaken!”

Pushing it back onto the rail, Kobra frowned, it was a nice jacket. Continuing along the rail without finding anything else he liked, he turned to find Red already wearing a dark green and cream biker style leather jacket that nipped delicately in at the waist, with padded ridges along the bottom and small zips at the cuffs of the sleeves.

“That’s the one,” he nodded approvingly.  
“Yeah?” She asked, pulling her boots back on to complete the outfit.  
“You look stunning!”  
“Let’s go thank Kami and show Jet!” She said enthusiastically.  
“Maybe keep your jacket on,” he commented as he followed her back to the living room.

*

Unaware that both Jet and Ghoul had fallen asleep, Red practically bounced into the room, excited to show everyone her new clothes.

“Kami!” She cried. “What do you think?”  
“Oh, sis, you look lovely!” Jet opened his eyes to see Red turning around with her arms stretched out.  
“Beautiful!” Kami replied, her eyes and smile wide with appreciation. “I thought you’d go for the green top. It looks gorgeous on you, my love. Slip your jacket off, let me see it properly.”  
“Er… well…” Kobra began, but Red was already removing it.  
“Perfect!” Kami clapped her hands together.  
“What the hell is that?” Jet suddenly cried in surprise as he saw how revealing the top was.  
“What? Would you all quit staring at my battle scars, they’re nothing to be ashamed of!”  
“That’s not what Kobra’s looking at,” Ghoul chuckled.  
“Oh, shut it, you!” Red scowled at the tiny troublemaker.  
“Scarlet! You know what I'm talking about - that practically non-existent top!”  
“This little thing?” She asked cheekily with her hands on her hips.  
“Little is exactly the word!” Jet fumed.  
“You know he likes her, and knowing his rep you still thought Kobra’d pick out something sensible? You're an idiot!” Ghoul reasoned unhelpfully and to Jet’s annoyance.  
“It is sensible!” Red argued. “There's no way this'll get in the way of fighting.”  
“There's not enough material in that to get in the way of anything!” Jet fumed.  
“There’s nothing wrong with it!” Red insisted.  
“Well, it’s not my area of expertise,” Ghoul tipped his head as if considering something, “but shouldn’t they be covered?”  
“Yes!” Jet agreed. “And with more than bits of string!”  
“Well now you're just being rude about Kami’s clothes,” Red pouted.  
“No, the clothes are lovely,” Jet sounded a little sheepish, but held his ground, “but that’s far too revealing.”  
“I love it!” Kobra piped up, risking Jet’s wrath.  
“So do I,” Kami agreed. “It’s very popular this season.”  
“Well, there you go, Jet.” Ghoul shrugged. “It’s fashionable.”

Jet turned an expression of frustration toward Ghoul. He had thought, just for one fleeting moment, that Ghoul was on his side, but he should have known better. Ghoul was only being his usual irritating self.

“Did I ask for your opinion, Ballet Boy?” He snapped, earning only a chuckle from the shorter man - it seemed he had got the reaction he’d been aiming for.  
“I wouldn’t let Party hear you say that,” Ghoul warned.  
“Why? Is he going to beat me up because I teased his boyfriend?” Jet mocked.  
“No, but he might take offence himself,” Ghoul mused.  
“Ghoul?” Kobra cut in in a warning tone.  
“I’ve known him since we were kids,” Ghoul shrugged. “Where do you think we met?”  
“Ghoul!” Kobra yelled. “What the fuck?”  
“What?” Ghoul threw up his arms. “I’m not taking this ballet flak on my own!”  
“Party trained in ballet? And you knew!” Jet was pointing at Kobra and laughing hard now. “Of course you knew! Oh, you are not getting away with keeping that a secret!”  
“He didn’t want…” Kobra began.  
“What?” Jet interrupted him. “He’s already a diva, this probably explains why!”  
“Hey!” Ghoul pouted. “I’m not a diva and I did ballet!”  
“No, but you are smitten with one,” Red laughed, enjoying the moment.

Ghoul smirked, glad that attention was now diverted from him and was firmly on the outed secret, as brother and sister laughed raucously at Party’s expense.

“See!” Kobra complained. “Happy now?”  
“Delirious!” Ghoul grinned in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to BrokenChemicalHeart for further discussion on her character, Red's history, taste in clothes and a few cracking lines! :D


	30. First Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kobra and Red share a blanket and get closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - discussion of attempted sexual assault

Jet yawned; he desperately wanted, no needed, some sleep. A really good night’s sleep would be ideal but never really possible. They were wanted men and as much as Kami had argued that they were safe there, they still felt it necessary to keep watch - insisting that they wouldn't bring trouble to Kami’s door. This would be Red’s first time at keeping watch. None of them would insist that she took a turn, after all she wasn’t wanted by BLI, but each of them knew that she would insist. She was one of them; she would take the highs, the lows and everything in between. Jet gave it some thought and discussed it discreetly with Ghoul and Kobra, all agreeing that as a _newbie_ , she should take an easier watch. The first watch was probably the easiest; it would offer unbroken sleep afterward. Similarly, last watch was another preferred and coveted option. They had agreed between them that Red would take one or the other but leave the choice to her. Red had gone with Kami to look at her new collection and the pair were now walking back to the living quarters. There was something about Kami that made it easy for people to talk to her. The pair were laughing and talking as if they had known each other for years and it warmed Jet’s heart to see it. Red Star was truly a Killjoy; he just hoped she’d never end up on a wanted or extermination poster.

As Red walked in, she noticed immediately that the guys had made themselves useful, collecting bolts of soft material and cushions from the storeroom. Some of the furniture had been pushed back and four makeshift but comfortable looking beds had been set up in the middle of the floor. She couldn’t help but notice that Ghoul had already settled himself on one of them, and was already starting to breathe slowly and deeply and was gently dozing. Jet pressed a finger to his lips to indicate that Red and Kami should lower their voices to let him sleep. Ghoul was taking second watch - it was a toss up as to which was worse, second or third. It came down to personal preference, but neither was popular by any stretch.

“Hey, sis,” Jet began quietly. “We’re sorting out the watch rota and we’re wondering which you want, first or last watch? Ghoul’s taking second, Kobra’s got third.”

Red looked between Jet and Kobra and shrugged; it didn’t matter to her, but she could see the creasing on Jet’s forehead - he was having enough difficulty keeping his eyes open merely to ask the question.

“I’ll take first, shall I?” She replied with a smile as she noticed Jet’s palpable relief at the chance of some sleep. “What’s the protocol? Will Ghoul relieve me when it’s time or do I wake him?”  
“You’ll probably need to wake him when it’s time. Let’s see,” Jet consulted his watch. “Do two hours, then change over.”  
“Just two?” Red asked, surprised.  
“There’re four of us. Two should be plenty. We’ll all get at least 6 hours.”  
“Okay,” Red smiled.  
“Well, on that note, I'm going to say goodnight, my darlings. I’ll make you some breakfast in the morning,” Kami announced.  
“You don’t have to do that, Kami,” Kobra turned to hug her, almost laughing as he felt her hand twirling his hair. “You’ve done so much for us already.”  
“Like you do for me, for all of us here in the Zones.” She pulled back to look at all of them. “I will do everything I can to make sure you’re as fit as you can be to rescue Party. It’s not much, but let me do it.”  
“Thanks, Kami, you're amazing, you know?” Kobra replied, giving her a light kiss on the cheek.  
“Well, I have to get up anyway to make sure Ghoul washes his hair,” she laughed quietly to herself. “Goodnight, my lovelies.”

Each of them said their goodnights as Kami headed off, Kobra saying an additional goodnight as he headed to his makeshift bed.

“So,” Jet began as he and Red walked toward the rear door, “I’ve found a good place to watch from and Kami’s given us a blanket to use to keep warm. Are you sure you’re okay to do this?”  
“I’m okay, Jet,” she replied. “Of all of us, you’ve had the least sleep. I’ll be fine.”

Jet kissed the top of her head.

“I know,” he smiled. “Right, if you see anything a bit suspicious and you're concerned you wake up Ghoul as second watch. If you see anything dangerous, you wake us all.”  
“I can do that.”  
“Well, we’re not expecting anything, so it’s more likely to be pretty boring. Just keep to the shadows and try not to be seen.”  
“You go get some sleep, Jet, I’ll be fine.”

Jet placed another gentle kiss, this time on her forehead.

“I know,” he smiled. “See you in the morning.”

Red pulled the blanket around her as she settled down, ready to help keep them all safe for the next two hours.

As Jet returned to the living quarters, even with the lights dimmed, he could see another shape in the room lying next to Ghoul. Drawing his gun, he edged over toward the sleeping Killjoy, frowning as he saw the figure with an arm draped over Ghoul had red hair and was wearing a blue jacket.

“Party?” He whispered, in disbelief; certain that it couldn’t be him.

The figure turned to look at Jet and he was astonished to see who it was wearing a similar jacket and a red wig.

“Kami?” He gestured his confusion as he returned the gun to its holster.  
“I came down for some water and he was having a bad dream,” she whispered. “Look how peaceful he is now,” she smiled.

Jet smiled in return; Kami was certainly eccentric but she had a heart of gold.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Jet chuckled lightly.  
“Ah, but look at his little face,” Kami enthused. “It suits a smile, don’t you think?”  
“Yes,” Jet nodded. “And you can always put it there.”

Kami smiled back before returning to snuggle up to Ghoul, stroking his hair lightly and eliciting a happy sigh while he slept.

Jet headed for his bed, certain that he would be asleep even before his head reached the cushion.

*

It was already an hour into her watch and Red was grateful for the opportunity to go first. Her eyes were struggling to stay open, but she was not about to let them down and fall asleep. If anything, it was Ghoul she felt sorry for. Having two hours’ sleep, then waking then sleeping again had to take its toll on the body. With Kobra taking third watch, she now realised that they had done that to make it easy for her. She was glad that Jet was going to get some unbroken sleep though. She had no idea how long he had remained awake, but it was at least two days straight and somehow six hours didn’t seem near enough. But Party’s life was at stake and they didn’t dare risk taking any longer.

In an attempt to stay awake, Red pushed herself to her feet, pulling the blanket with her; it was a bitterly cold night for Zone 1. As she stood, she heard a shuffling noise coming from inside the building and she checked her watch again; she was definitely not due to be relieved. Opening the door quietly, she pulled back in shock as a figure loomed over her. About to scream for help, she clamped her hand over her mouth as Kobra stepped from the shadows.

“You scared the living daylights out of me!” She hissed quietly.  
“Sorry,” he chuckled, not looking the remotest bit sorry.  
“It’s not your watch,” Red tipped her head. “Why are you up?”

Kobra stepped out into the cool night air, taking in a lungful and noting the ice that hung in the air, chilling him and waking him further.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged.  
“Worried about Party?” Red asked, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

He was about to nod. It would have been much easier to take the easy option and claim concern for his brother. It wasn't that he wasn’t concerned, it was just that there was another reason.

“Nightmare,” he admitted, shaking his head as if embarrassed to admit it.  
“About your dad?” Red asked gently, draping part of the blanket across his shoulders before slipping her arm around his waist and pulling him closer.  
“Yeah,” he replied simply. “I can’t believe Party’s been dealing with this for so many years. I can't even handle it for one night.”

Red shook her head and sighed.

“What?” Kobra frowned. “I’m disappointed in me enough without you joining in.”  
“I’m not disappointed in you,” Red stared off to the horizon. “Well, not for being upset by your nightmare anyway.”  
“Why are you then?” Kobra sounded hurt.  
“Because you’re berating yourself over something that you shouldn't.”  
“Why?” He grumbled. “What did I say that was wrong? Party has been dealing with it for years. This is my first nightmare and I'm out here trying to get as far away from it as possible. Where in that is something I should be proud of?”  
“I’m not saying it's been easy for Party, but he grew up with the knowledge and chose to protect you from it. You on the other hand remembered it all at once when a memory was triggered for you. You had no time to prepare, no time to process and your brain is dealing with it as best it can. Yes, you had a nightmare and it probably won’t be the last, but this is all so new to you and it’s a shock. Also, what you’re missing is that he hasn't been dealing with it alone. You heard Ghoul, they’ve known each other since they were kids in ballet together. They were close friends, very close friends then lovers. He’s never had to deal with it alone.”

Red turned Kobra around so they faced each other. He was staring over her shoulder, trying hard not to make eye contact; perhaps afraid of seeing disappointment in her blue eyes. Red, in contrast, was looking directly into his eyes and kept staring until he lowered his to meet her gaze. Perhaps assisted by gravity, when he looked down, the mist that had glazed over his eyes pooled onto his lower lashes, clinging on like a raindrop to a blade of grass.

“You don’t have to deal with it alone either,” she added softly.

Pulling her close, Kobra rested his chin on her head as she buried her face in his chest.

“Wow!” He chuckled. “You really are tiny.”  
“You can’t stay serious for a minute, can you?” Red sighed.  
“I can, but don't you think Zone living is serious enough?” Kobra reasoned.

Red pulled back, the blanket falling from Kobra’s shoulder as she did. Wrapping it around herself until only her head and lower half of her legs could be seen, Red shrugged and took a seat once more on the step and pulled her knees up close to her chest.

“Hey!” Kobra raised his eyebrows. “It’s cold out here.”  
“I know,” Red smiled. “This blanket’s warm though.”  
“Are you inviting me in?” He tipped his head and smirked.  
“You should be getting some sleep, shouldn’t you?” Red grinned back.

Kobra lowered his head and sighed, suddenly appearing uncomfortable and somewhat hesitant. The seriousness that Red had noted that he struggled with was back and seemed more than ever to be weighing heavily on his shoulders. Red lost her smile as she stared at his discomfort. She wasn’t certain if it was the nightmare or his concern for Party, but Kobra was struggling to admit that what he really wanted was company. He needed a distraction from the situation that was consuming him, whether he was prepared to admit it or not.

Red unfurled the blanket and nodded to him to join her.

“This is my first watch,” she raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I could do with an old hand to make sure I do it right?”  
“Nice try,” Kobra rolled his eyes. “I know when someone's taking pity on me, you know.”  
“Get over here before I close the blanket,” Red shook her head. “It’s far too cold to wait for you to decide whether you’re going to take me up on the offer you wanted me to make.”

Kobra folded his arms and looked sternly down before unfolding them quickly and leaping as she began to lower the blanket.

“I’m in!” He laughed as she lifted her arm again.  
“Come on,” she nodded, “we could both use the company.”  
“Yeah,” Kobra smiled as he snuggled into the warmth of both Red and the blanket. “Speaking of company, Ghoul’s found some, you know.”

Red turned a curious expression toward him, waiting for him to continue, poking him in the ribs when more information was not immediately forthcoming.

“Kami’s dressed up as Party and has snuggled up to Ghoul.”  
“Is he asleep? Does he know?”  
“Fast asleep,” he laughed lightly. “He’s smiling and sighing and…”

Kobra stopped suddenly short, the final word choked off. Lowering his head, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut in an attempt to keep the stinging behind them forcing out the tears that had gathered. Red pulled him close, running her fingers through his hair and rocking him gently.

“It’s okay, Mikey,” Red said softly. “We’ll get him back. He’ll be okay, he’s strong, you know he is.”  
“And I'm not,” he mumbled.  
“You are strong, and you didn’t see him when _you_ were missing,” she countered. “I did. He was a mess. That's why we fought. You just show it in different ways, that’s all. He’s a diva, you’re a sweetheart. Besides, I'd be hurt if you didn’t think you could be yourself with me.”

Kobra lifted his head and nodded with a half smile.

“That goes both ways, you know?”  
“I know,” she replied, squeezing his hand.  
“So, are you going to tell me about those scars?”

Red pursed her lips. She didn’t like thinking about the scars she had. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of them, it wasn’t even that they were visible, it was that she viewed them as badges of failure. Times when she had almost lost a battle, or worse.

“Well, you saw the scars across my collar bone but I don’t know if you saw I have a matching one here,” she indicated to her sternum. “I got into a fight with a couple of dracs. They caught me stealing some food. I was starving, I didn’t even see them.”  
“Hunger can blind you sometimes,” Kobra nodded. “They look like knife wounds.”  
Red nodded regretfully. “They are, I think they were aiming for my throat. I have some more on my back, just below my shoulder.”  
“Knife wounds?”  
“No, same fight though. I fell at one point and scraped my back on one of the crates I was taking food from.”  
“I take it you won the fight?” Kobra asked gently.  
“Just, yeah,” Red sighed. “I was weak. I hadn’t eaten in four days. If it hadn’t been for what you taught me, I would be dead now.”  
“Well, I'm very happy that you’re not but,” he pulled his upper lip between his teeth hesitantly, “they weren't the scars I meant.”

Red lowered her eyes and her cheeks flushed pink. Thinking back to when Kobra had joined her earlier when she was trying on clothes, he had stood in front of her while she was wearing only her bra and panties. It hadn’t occurred to her at the time, but yes, now she realised that of course he would have seen the scars on her hip. Older than the ones around her shoulder, they had faded more, but were still visible.

“I’d not long got out of Bat City,” she began, her eyes still lowered. “I was sleeping in a derelict building in Zone 2. I'd learned to keep out of sight as much as possible at night, but I was still quite trusting. There was me, another woman and two guys sheltering from the rain. They had flasks of something revolting but vaguely alcoholic and they offered it to us. We were cold and wet and… like I said, I was trusting. They seemed decent enough, they’d shared some food with us too. Said they were travelling to Zone 3 to find work; they even looked quite clean. I believed them, we both did. Whatever was in the flasks, it wasn’t just alcohol and it was only a few minutes before we both started feeling really strange. It might be that the other guy had stronger stuff or she drank more, but she nearly passed out. He dragged her off to another part of the building and the guy with me told me that if I wanted to stay alive, I should do whatever he wanted.”

Without saying a word, Kobra pulled Red closer so that her head could rest on his chest as she continued.

“He pushed me to the floor and tried to get my clothes off. I guess he wasn’t expecting me to fight back.”  
“Did you?” Kobra whispered. “Could you?”  
“Yes,” she nodded.

It was only when she moved her head and the cold night air touched his shirt did he realise that it was damp from silent tears.

“Shall we just say that I got a good enough angle to kick him so hard that his balls went back up into his body and the rest of his junk swelled up to three times its size, but not the way he wanted it to.”

Kobra winced, pressing his legs together, not in sympathy for the man, but out of the ability to imagine the immeasurable pain that the kick must have caused.

“He screamed louder than I've ever heard anyone. A real high pitched squeal and he couldn’t get off the floor. He could barely breathe. My head was reeling by this point and I tried to get up but the other guy was suddenly there. He yanked me upright and backhanded me so hard I don’t remember anything else. When I woke up, they were long gone and the other woman was looking after me. They’d had to go get him to a hospital, it was going black apparently.”  
“Good!” Kobra snapped angrily. “I hope he lost it.”  
“Yeah, well, as a parting gift for ruining his fun, the other guy carved the word ‘slut’ onto my hip. She’d managed to stop it bleeding while I was unconscious but I knew it would scar. At least they didn’t get what they wanted.”  
“Zonecreepers,” Kobra spat the word like it left a foul taste in his mouth. “Bastards. You were really brave.”  
“My own fault for being so trusting,” Red replied softly.  
“No!”

Kobra turned her to face him, lifting her chin with his fingers, frowning unhappily as he saw the salty tracks of her tears on her cheeks and the redness around her eyes from trying to hold them back.

“No,” he repeated firmly, but with a kind, soft tone. “That was not your fault. You can't think like that. They saw two, what they thought were, vulnerable women. They targeted you, drugged you and attacked you. Hell, even if they hadn’t drugged you, they had no right whatsoever to lay a single finger on you. You are not to blame. Only they are to blame.”  
“You’re right,” Red nodded. “But…”

Kobra placed his lips gently on her mouth, caressing her hair softly with his right hand and pulling her closer with his left. Moving his head slowly, Kobra placed soft kissed on her cheek and down her neck before cupping her cheek.

“No,” he shook his head. “Trusting someone, even sharing food, does not give anyone the right to assault you.”  
“Thing is, by taking at least some of the blame, I managed to convince myself that it couldn’t happen again because I'd be ready. I'd learned from my mistakes. If I accept that I wasn’t to blame, that means I was helpless to it. That I wasn’t in control. That it could happen again.”  
“You’ve learned, yes, but from experience. You didn’t make any mistakes and you are definitely not helpless. You proved that.”  
“Hmm,” Red shrugged.  
“I know I can’t make you believe. You have to do that for yourself. No amount of reasoning is going to make me feel like I didn’t let Party down.”  
“You didn’t!” Red’s eyes opened wide at his admission.  
“Doesn’t your argument sound familiar?” He moved closer and brushed his lips against hers once more. “But, how about if we both promise to consider the possibility that what we’re saying to each other is true? Just consider it?”

Red gave a weak smile; she could see the logic in his words but her lingering irrational guilt kept her from accepting it. Now she could see he was in the same position. If she expected him to accept her words, didn’t she have to accept his?

“Okay,” she nodded. “Both of us, yeah?”  
“Yeah,” Kobra nodded in reply. “Anyway, your watch is over. Go get some sleep, I’ll take second watch and wake Ghoul in a couple of hours.”  
“I’ll stay with you,” Red smiled. “It’s nice here under the blanket.”  
“I know, but we have to be ready for tomorrow. Go get some sleep. I’ll be in in a couple of hours. Go on,” he indicated to the door with a nod of his head and a smile.

Pressing a light kiss to his lips, Red pushed herself to her feet, wrapping her half of the blanket around him.

“Thanks.”  
“For what?” He asked staring up.  
“Being you.”  
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” he winked, allowing himself a smile as she ran her hand across his back and right shoulder before heading inside.

She was ready to sleep.


	31. The Great Escape?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Dr Fielding help Party escape or will they be captured again?

The door opened and the draculoids ran into the cell, heading straight through the still open opposite door heading for the laboratories, Korse following behind, his gun drawn and a stern, harsh expression fixed on his pale face. Briefly his eyes were drawn to the right, where the guard lay on the bed, restrained and still unconscious. 

Before he had even reached the centre of the cell both doors closed and he pulled up sharply. 

"Drop your weapons, Korse," a female voice spoke quietly behind him.

Turning slowly, Korse couldn't help but feel an element of admiration for the doctor. She had given the impression of having forgotten the cameras but had in fact used the situation to trap him. Now in front of him, Fielding stood with the guard's gun trained on him with one hand and the other shielding Party behind her. Lowering himself, Korse placed his gun on the floor. 

"Do you really believe you'll get out of here?" He asked as Green picked up the gun.  
"All your weapons, Korse," Fielding replied, ignoring his question.  
"I don't have any others," he replied simply.  
"Do I have to make you strip?" Fielding raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure neither of us wants that."

Korse bristled at the insult. Reaching inside his coat he drew out a second gun and handed it by the barrel to Green. 

"And your knife?"  
"I don't have a knife," he snapped.  
"Knife!" She demanded, aiming her gun. 

Reaching into his boot, Korse pulled a knife and tossed it away. 

"How did you know?" He asked with a scowl.  
“Because I’m not stupid and neither are you,” Fielding scowled. “Green?”

The droid approached Korse and, pulling his hands behind him, fastened the guard’s restraints around his wrists.

“So, Gerard?” Korse smiled slyly. “You’re trusting the woman who pumped you full of drugs?”  
“Shut up!” Fielding snapped, forcing him out of the door. “Who should he trust? Family?”  
“You won’t get out of here,” Korse promised. “It’s too well guarded.”

Now walking down the corridor, Fielding held onto the centre of the restraints around Korse’s wrists, with her gun pressed to his back. Behind her, Party walked with one of Korse’s guns, with Green bringing up the rear, walking with her back to the small group so she could protect them, occasionally turning her head to check their progress.

“I’m guessing they’ll want to keep their chief exterminator alive.”  
“I wouldn’t bank on it,” Korse replied.  
“Well, if they don’t, we might not get out, but you’ll be dead too and that’ll be a good day in my eyes,” she replied coldly.  
“Are you getting all of this, Gerard?” Korse called back with an amused undertone. “Your trustworthy doctor friend wants me dead.”  
“Don’t listen to him, Gerard,” Fielding spoke softly, concerned that Party might start to doubt her.  
“I’m not,” he replied a little shakily. “He killed my dad.”  
“Well now, Korse,” Fielding added. “If you’d removed that memory instead of forcing him to relive it, perhaps you wouldn’t be here now.”  
“If you do escape, Doctor Fielding, don’t think I won’t hunt you down personally and exterminate you myself.”  
“You’re making one hell of an assumption, Korse,” Fielding spat.  
“You’re the one assuming you’ll escape,” Korse argued.  
“You’re the one assuming you’ll live,” she replied grinding the barrel of the gun into his spine.

Hearing the approaching clatter of footsteps, Korse allowed himself a sly smile. About to pass a corridor leading off the main route, Korse ducked and spun around, twisting out of her grip. As he turned he lifted his leg, to kick her arm and hopefully dislodge the gun from her grasp. If he could just disappear down the other corridor the approaching draculoids could gun them down and, if he lived, recapture Party Poison. Even as his leg was in mid-air, he found himself recoiling and crashing to the floor, crying out in pain, unable to break his fall. 

Fielding stared, astonished. She had been utterly taken by surprise and hadn’t managed to fire a single shot. Turning, she saw Party staring down harshly, the gun in his hand. Briefly, in his eyes, she saw what she knew must be Party Poison, but within moments he had once again regressed to age ten; there was horror in his eyes and he was swallowing hard, trying to stop himself from trembling with shock, not just at what he had done, but at how easily he had done it.

Fielding reached down to pick up Korse. At first uncooperative, he pushed himself to his feet as she pressed down on the laser beam wound in his side with her foot. Under his bloodstained shirt, his skin was broken, red and blistering.

“Are you okay?” Fielding asked Party gently before they moved off again.

Party merely nodded. Clearly he was not okay, but he had promised to be brave. If he were brave, she had told him he would see Mikey again and despite his terror, that was more important to him than anything. He would be brave; he was brave.

Stumbling toward the main exit, Korse saw the many gathered draculoids, but he was weak, in pain and with slowed reflexes; he had very few choices. Unable to trust many of the draculoids to have a good enough aim to kill Fielding and Green plus disable or disarm Party before one of them killed him he was forced to give in.

“Stand down,” he ordered through gritted teeth, partly through pain, partly through humiliation.

At first none of them moved, merely staring and aiming their weapons, their expressions unreadable behind their masks. A slight nudge with Fielding’s gun in his spine prompted him to give the order again, but more forcefully. Fielding smiled as one by one the draculoids lowered their weapons.

“Tell them to go,” Fielding instructed. “We want clear passage out of here and we’re going in your car.”  
“How far do you think you’ll get?” Korse asked scornfully.  
“With you in it?” Fielding pressed the gun harder into his back. “Quite far. Now tell them to go. Once we’re away, we’ll let you go but anything goes wrong or anyone follows, we’ll kill you. Got it?”  
“Withdraw,” Korse instructed the draculoids. “They are to be allowed to leave and are not to be followed.”

Now in the BLI building’s lobby with its towering glass front, Fielding could see Korse’s black car parked outside. It had gone to plan and it felt almost too easy; Korse was being far too compliant. It was then that Fielding realised why - his car could be tracked. No doubt a safety device should he be ambushed while out in the desert. His men would always be able to find him. It seemed unlikely that beyond the confines of the BLI building, where Green had been able to access the main computer, that she would be able to connect to any individual devices that may be set up in the car. She had to assume, for safety's sake that not only was the car trackable, but that there were cameras and listening devices inside the car. She could take no chances. She wouldn’t risk either her own or Party’s life and once a suitable distance away from BLI she needed to consider a plan to escape detection. There was only one possibility - she needed another car.

Climbing into the driver’s seat with Party next to her, Green forced Korse into the back seat, and even though his hands were secured behind his back, she made certain to ensure that there were no weapons within reach.

“So,” Korse began. “Where are you going?”  
“Nice try,” Fielding scoffed. “I know this car will have audio and visual devices and a tracker.”  
“Well, if you know that,” Korse mocked, “how far do you genuinely think you’ll get?”  
“You underestimate me, Korse,” Fielding replied as she pulled quickly out of the parking lot, checking her mirrors for a discreet tail.  
“Somehow I doubt that,” Korse replied slyly.  
“Green,” Fielding began. “As we discussed, please.”

Expecting to be blindfolded or something similar, Korse merely stared directly ahead defiantly. Unprepared for the gun butt being brought down sharply on the back of his head, Korse slipped almost soundlessly into unconsciousness.

“It’s a long shot, Green, but are you able to do anything about the tracking or monitoring devices in the car?”  
“I’m not sure, Doctor,” Green replied as Fielding headed toward the tunnel out of Battery City. “If I were able to connect to the onboard computer, perhaps, but I suspect my access has been revoked by now.”  
“Try anyway,” Fielding asked.  
“Where are we going?” Party asked.  
“The car is being monitored, Gerard,” Fielding explained. “I can’t say without risking letting BLI know.”  
“Oh,” Party replied quietly. “You… you are trying to help me, aren't you?”  
“Yes!” Fielding turned surprised eyes toward Party as she continued to drive as fast as she felt able. “I’m getting you out, away from the torture. I’m not going to hurt you, Gerard.”  
“But are you taking me to Mikey?” He asked still uncertain; she had promised him that Mikey was safe, but he wouldn’t allow himself to believe it until he saw him with his own eyes.  
“I can’t just yet, Gerard,” she sighed. “Mikey’s not with Korse, I promise you, but I can't take you to him just yet. I need to make sure you're safe first. Do you understand?”  
“I… I guess,” Party frowned.  
“If I take you to Mikey and they find us, he’ll be in danger too. You need to be brave a little longer,” she pleaded. “'Can you do that, Gerard?”  
“Yeah,” he sighed sadly. “But he is okay?”  
“He’s fine, Gerard,” she continued with her hopeful lie - she had no idea who he was. Even if she could take Party to Mikey right now, he wouldn’t recognise him. She wondered if he’d even recognise himself.

*

“Hey,” came a quiet voice.

Kobra looked up to the source of the sound to see Jet standing over him.

“Shh!” He whispered, placing a finger to his lips. “She’s asleep.” 

Jet smiled to see Red draped across Kobra’s lap with the bulk of the blanket keeping her warm.

“Nobody woke Ghoul?” He asked. “Or me?”  
“Well, I got up early, I had a nightmare. I sat with Red until the end of her shift. I thought I might as well swap with Ghoul as I was awake anyway but then she came back saying she couldn't sleep.”  
“And you sat here through Ghoul’s watch and part of mine?”  
“I didn’t want to wake her up,” Kobra smiled up.  
“Get some rest, Kobra.”  
“But…”  
“She’s well away,” Jet smiled at his commitment. “Carry her in, she won’t wake up.”  
“Okay,” Kobra smiled in return. “I could use a couple of hours.”  
“We’ll let you sleep as long as possible.”  
“Don’t eat breakfast without me!”  
“'Of course not,” Jet gave a light chuckle as he stepped aside to let Kobra past, carrying the still sleeping Red and giving him a light pat on the back as he walked in.  
“Do I need to wake Kami?” Kobra asked, concerned about what Ghoul’s reaction would be to finding her snuggled up to him and dressed as Party.  
“No,” Jet laughed quietly. “I’ve already convinced her to go upstairs to her own bed.”

Kobra shared a broad smile with Jet; Kami was a very good friend, but she was also very eccentric at times. They appreciated the fact that felt that she could be herself around them and knew they wouldn’t judge. It made them sad to think that this was what BLI was fighting.

“Sleep well, Kobra.”  
“Thanks, Jet,” Kobra replied, genuinely appreciative of the chance for a few hours of sleep.

*

Pulling into the underground parking lot of a tall, beautiful block of apartments in Battery City, Fielding brought Korse’s car to halt in a dark corner of the structure before stepping quickly and quietly from the car, signalling for Party and Green to follow her. She approached a silver car and reaching behind the front wheel fished out a set of keys, sighing with relief as she did. 

“Your car?” Party asked.  
“A friend’s,” she replied. “It’s what’s going to get us out of here.”  
“Won’t he or she miss it?” Party asked.  
“I have a feeling he’s already been killed by BLI,” she replied sadly as she reflected on her inability to reach the friend that she had replaced.  
“I’m sorry,” Party said, a genuine look of sadness on his face.  
“Come on,” she opened the doors and trunk. “Green, I’m afraid you’re easy to spot with your hair, do you mind hiding in the trunk? Gerard, I need you in the back, so you can lie down and hide.”  
“I can’t leave with you,” Green announced. “My batteries won’t function beyond the walls of Battery City.”  
“I’m pretty sure that’s not true,” Fielding replied with a frown. “Just something to keep you here.”

Green paused, uncertain what to do. She was programmed to protect Gerard but more than that, if she stayed she would likely be dismantled. Either way, her existence seemed unlikely.

“I’ll come,” she nodded climbing into the trunk. “If you're right, I'm of greater use with you than I am here.”  
“Are you ready, Gerard?” Fielding asked.  
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m ready.”

Party took a deep breath. Something was telling him that the sooner they left Battery City, the better. He didn't know why but somehow he was comfortable with the idea.

“Let's go,” he added, climbing into the back seat.


	32. Cars that pass in the day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Killjoys prepare their assault on BLI while Fielding and Party make good their escape

It was bacon. If anything was going to do it, it was going to be bacon. It had been so long since Kobra had smelt it, if asked, he wouldn’t be able to describe it but the moment the sweet and salty aroma was in the air he recognised it like an old friend. His eyes fluttered open only to meet darkness. Pulling the covers down, he squinted in the early morning light filtering through the window. Looking around at what he could see without moving, he noticed that Ghoul had risen already. Kami was nowhere in sight, but it was clear from the scent of food and the faint occasional clattering noises coming from the kitchen, that she was cooking breakfast.

“They better not have started without me,” he grumbled as his stomach growled loudly.  
“How can you possibly be that hungry?”

Kobra rolled over in the makeshift bed only to see Jet checking the battery levels of all but Kobra’s gun. Alongside him stood a small pile of recently charged spare batteries.

“What?” Kobra objected. “We ate like… what? Eight hours ago?”  
“We ate like kings eight hours ago,” Jet corrected.  
“It’s not my fault,” Kobra frowned. “It’s the bacon.”  
“Ah! Pig related blame?”  
“'Can you resist bacon?” Kobra pressed.  
“I don’t plan to,” Jet replied with a conspiratorial smirk. “I really need to know where she gets her supplies from!”  
“You and me both,” Kobra nodded his agreement as he pushed the covers back onto his bed and got to his feet, stretching out his muscles.

Kobra turned following Jet’s glance and raised his eyebrows as Ghoul entered the room holding a bowl and a fork.

“Oh, it’s a tricky one, isn’t it?” Kobra grinned.  
“Certainly is,” Jet nodded his agreement.  
“What is?” Ghoul frowned as he noticed both men staring at him with amusement clear on their faces.  
“What do we comment on first?” Kobra began, earning a deep scowl from the younger man.  
“Well, he’s clean,” Jet offered.  
“He’s very clean,” Kobra agreed with a grin. “And his hair… Has it always been that colour?”  
“Very amusing,” Ghoul narrowed his eyes. “Where's Red?” He added brightly, smiling as Kobra turned a wary eye towards him.  
“Not sure,” Jet replied. “Haven't seen her since I finished my watch. Maybe she's having a shower?”  
“Maybe? Anyway, I was coming in to wake you up, Kobra. Kami’s ready with your breakfast. You and Jet go through, if I see Red, I'll let her know.”  
“What about you?” Jet asked with a tilt of his head.  
“I’ve eaten… well,” he pointed at the bowl with his fork. “Nearly finished.”  
“What have you got there?” Jet asked, stretching his neck to try to view the contents.  
“Mango,” he smiled broadly, tilting the bowl to let them see and enjoying the sight of Jet’s eyes popping.  
“Mango!”  
“In the kitchen,” he nodded, “go on, leave me in peace!”

Almost dropping the gun he was checking onto the table with the others, Jet leapt to his feet and grabbing Kobra’s arm, dragged him toward the kitchen. Kobra glanced back at Ghoul as he took a seat in one of the couches that had been pushed back against the wall. Popping another slice of mango into his mouth, Ghoul smiled again and offered Kobra a brief wave.

“You can come out now,” Ghoul called with a chuckle. “Jet’s gone.”

Slowly the covers of Kobra's bed moved and were pulled down, revealing a mess of blonde hair and a pair of wide blue eyes.

“How did you know?” Red’s voice sounded slightly muffled beneath the covers.  
“Maybe I’m not as innocent as Jet? Maybe I know Kobra? Or…” he paused with a twinkle in his eyes, “maybe you’re not as quiet as you think you are?”  
“I’m sorry, Ghoul!” Red sighed, pushing her hair back from her eyes. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”  
“I know,” he chuckled. “But it’s okay, it was educational. I had no idea it was possible to be that flexible and I did ballet! But, I am going to try that thing Kobra does with the balancing… looks fun!”

The cushion was already flying through the air before he had finished his sentence and he laughed as he batted it away just in time to stop it hitting his bowl.

“Hey, missy! Don't mess with my mango!”  
“Well I’ve never heard it called that before, but okay,” she grinned as she pushed back the covers.  
“Noooo!” He cried in exaggerated concern and made a show of turning away and covering his eyes as she rose from the bed.  
“Ghoul, I’m dressed,” she pouted at the dramatic response, waiting until he lowered his arms. “You’ve spent far too much time with Party! His ‘diva’ is rubbing off on you!”  
“That’s not all he rubs…”  
“Ghoul!” Red’s voice grew shrill as he dissolved into a fit of giggles.

The sound of running prompted Red to leap from where she still stood on top of the bed and she pretended to be packing it up.

“See what you’ve done,” she hissed as Ghoul continued to laugh helplessly into his bowl.

Only moments later Jet and Kobra skidded into the room, both had their guns drawn and their expressions served only to make Ghoul laugh harder, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them as tears dripped onto his knees.

“What’s wrong?” Jet asked hurriedly, misinterpreting the tears and sounds Ghoul was making. “What’s happened?”

Kobra lowered his gun and drew himself in from what he knew had become his ‘ready to attack’ stance. Perhaps it was Red’s exasperated expression that gave him away, but Kobra knew almost immediately that Ghoul was enjoying one of his more childish moments, probably at his expense given that he had no doubt seen Red emerge from the bed.

“Jet,” Kobra slapped his arm gently. “It’s just Ghoul and his playground humour. Let's get back to our breakfast. Coming Red?”  
“I was just packing the beds up,” she replied, one of the corners of the fabric still in her hands.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ghoul desperately biting his lip and genuinely trying not to laugh. He didn't want to invite awkward questions from Jet or even Kobra. Forcibly calming himself, taking several deep breaths and lowering his legs.

“Sorry, guys,” he finally managed. “Didn’t mean to worry you. I made myself laugh and couldn't stop. Thinking about Party, guess I'm…” he sighed as his voice cracked and trailed off.  
“It’s okay, man,” Jet nodded and smiled sympathetically. “We’ll be heading out soon. He’ll be back with us before you know it.”

Ghoul forced a smile. It seemed strange to him that only moments earlier he had laughed uncontrollably and yet now as the subject grew serious he could barely force his lips upward. How much of him, he wondered, was really him and how much was overcompensation, emotions exaggerated by the war?

Red turned a concerned glance toward him and felt that she noticed for the first time how small he seemed. Her first impression of him when she had met him was of him being short, yes, but somehow he had never seemed small. There was something about Ghoul that filled a room - his smile, his enthusiasm, his compassion. He had a larger than life personality and a laugh to match, but now she could see past the humour - the front, the wall that obscured the pain and insecurity that wanted to make him invisible instead of invincible.

“I’m just going to finish packing this away and I’ll join you in a minute or two,” Red pointed to Kobra’s makeshift bed. “Go on.”  
“Sure?” Jet asked. “Well don’t be long, I can’t guarantee I can stop him eating everything.”  
“Hey!” Kobra slapped Jet’s arm again, but harder this time. “I’m not that bad!”  
“Yeah, Kobra, you are!” Jet grinned. “See you in a couple of minutes then?”  
“Yeah, won’t be long,” Red smiled as they turned to leave, but as soon as they were out of the door she dropped the fabric and was kneeling at Ghoul’s side.

“Hey? I have broad shoulders, I can help.”

Ghoul stared, his eyes stinging, trying desperately to hold back the tears that wanted to force their way out. He had expected her to ask if he was okay or possibly even give a pep talk. He was prepared for either of those possibilities and was ready to brush them off with his usual casual flair. He was not prepared for the empathy in what she actually said. Lowering his eyes finally as once again tears fell.

“I guess I'm going to have to up my game if I'm going to hide stuff from you, aren't I?”  
"Oh, dear sweet Ghoul,” she smiled sympathetically as she took his left hand in hers. “You can't. I'm a woman, it's what we do. But we know when you don't want it advertised too. You can always come to me."  
"You actually have very small shoulders," he smiled. "I guess I'll fit perfectly."

*

Battery City had long since left the rear view mirror and Fielding noticed that finally her shoulders had settled back into their usual position, having managed to let the tension go. Now approaching the small town of Nystad she called to Party still sitting on the floor in the back of the car leaning against the car door.

“How are you doing, Gerard?”  
“I'm okay,” he replied. “I’m drawing. I found a pen and some paper.”  
“Oh? What are you drawing?” She asked, relieved that he had found something to take his mind off everything he had suffered.  
“I’m drawing a picture of my best friend, Frankie, we go to ballet together.”  
“Ballet? Do you want to be a dancer?”  
“No, not really,” he replied thoughtfully. “I want to be an artist, but BLI don't do art classes. They consider art to be threatening, like it's some sort of weapon.”  
“But ballet? Dance is an art.”  
“Not the way BLI teach it.” Party rolled his eyes and continued in a high pitched voice mimicking a haughty sounding teacher. “ _Ballet is for exercise and nothing more. The world does not need dance. Living a productive life is enough._ ”  
Fielding smiled. “Who’s that? You’re ballet teacher?”  
“Yeah, _the high and mighty Mrs Brighton, takes her pills that stop her fighting. Used to be a world class dancer, now thinks BLI’s the answer._ ”

As Party reached the end of his little rhyme, delivered in a singsong fashion, his voice tapered off to a serious, saddened tone.

“It’s the tablets, it must be,” he sighed. “How could someone give up on their art like that?”  
“You don’t think like that?”  
“No,” he replied with surprise at the question. “Art, in all its forms, is beauty. It's the answer to every question. It's the reason I breathe and the life in my soul.”  
“That’s beautiful, Gerard,” Fielding smiled in the rear view mirror even though neither could see the other. “I can see art means everything to you.”  
“Well, art, Mikey and Frankie. Not necessarily in that order.”  
“What order would you put them in?” She asked, now curious.  
“Well,” he chuckled. “That depends on who I'm with at the time.”

Fielding laughed. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed. It was ironic, in Battery City she had everything - a beautiful apartment, money, a job, friends and she couldn't remember laughing. Now, fleeing Battery City with a wanted fugitive hiding in the car and knowing she could never return, she had found humour in the innocent words of a ten year old boy, as he believed himself to be. He had endured so much and yet he was still so strong. This was definitely not the Party Poison that BLI wanted people to believe he was.

“We’re nearly there, Gerard,” she called back to him.

Out of sight, he glanced up, somewhat puzzled.

“Already? Zone Three?”  
“No,” she shook her head, “that’s just what I told the gatehouse. I'm heading for a hospital in Nystad, Zone One. I have a friend there.”  
“Oh, okay.”

Fielding turned off Route Guano and headed towards the small town. She couldn't help but sigh quietly to herself. Gerard was so innocent, so trusting and probably very talented. But here she was seeking help to try to reverse the programming and return him to being Party Poison - a careworn, half-starved rebel, fighting what could be a losing battle until death or capture. It didn't seem fair. Part of her wanted him to remain forever ten years old, so he could draw and paint to his heart’s content but even that wasn't possible. He missed his brother and his friend, whoever or wherever they were now.

As she approached the hospital, the only other traffic on the road was a trans am heading in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to BrokenChemicalHeart for the hilarious 'not possible to be that flexible line'. I had to use it!! :P


	33. I'm not ten, am I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party comes to a realisation and Red learns more about the complex life of a Killjoy

Bringing the car to a halt in a quiet corner of the staff car park, Fielding switched off the engine and turned around hesitantly.

“This might be a mistake, but I think you should come inside with me.”

Pushing himself up so that he now sat on the back seat, Party leaned through the gap in the two front seats.

“Why would it be a mistake?” He asked innocently.  
“You might be recognised,” Fielding replied, not looking him in the eyes.  
“Who’s going to recognise me?” Party laughed, genuinely amused by the suggestion.  
“Gerard, I'm going to tell you something. It's important, but you mustn't panic, okay?”

Party frowned; he wondered what on earth could she be about to say that would make him panic.

“You remember I called you Party before you told me to call you Gerard?”  
“Yeah?” Party drew out the word not knowing what to expect.  
“Well, your memory has been altered. You call yourself Party Poison and you’re the leader of a group of rebels, fighting BLI.”  
“I’m ten,” he replied flatly, as if waiting for an explanation of a missed punchline.  
“Ah, yes… that’s the other thing.” Fielding lowered her eyes once more.  
“What?” Party narrowed his eyes, leaning forward again, uncertain how to react.

About to speak, Fielding had second thoughts and leaning to reach behind herself and engaged the door locks. At the click, Party turned his head sharply to look at the rear passenger doors before immediately trying the handles, but the doors remained firmly locked. Turning back, he tried to force his way through the gap between the front seats, but Fielding braced herself against the dashboard and was able to push him backwards onto the seat. Repeating the action as he tried again.

“Stay put!” She snapped. “I knew this would happen, that's why I locked the doors.”  
“I’m trying to get out _because_ you locked the doors!”  
“I don’t want you running off.”  
“Uncle Grant was right!” He growled. “What do you want from me?”  
“He was not right! Don’t be so melodramatic! He was trying to destroy you and I rescued you! The only reason I've locked the doors is because when I tell you what I have to tell you, I'm worried you’ll panic and run. And I do not want to run through the streets of Nystad chasing a wanted man, who might well have friends here. I don’t want either of us getting shot! Do you understand?”

Her voice was raised and her breathing quickened, but the look on Party’s face forced her to calm herself once more. Of course, with panic came fear and it was clearly displayed on Party’s face as his concerned eyes met hers.

“M-man?” Party stammered. “B-but I… I'm ten!”

Party looked down. It was as if he had only just noticed his own body. The length of his legs, the size of his hands and the hair on his arms were certainly not those of a ten year old. Somehow his mind had told him that nothing was out of the ordinary and he hadn’t questioned it for a moment. Lowering his eyes further, he glanced with curiosity at his crotch and moving a hand from the side of the front seat to investigate further, he was suddenly distracted by a voice.

“Gerard?”

Party’s head snapped up, his face flushed with embarrassment and guilt. As he did, he caught his reflection in the rear view mirror. It wasn’t his face; the pronounced cheekbones, dark eyes, pale skin, long bright red hair and he needed to shave. He was definitely not ten.

Falling back into the seat once more, Party merely gaped. Words swirled in his mind, some forming partial sentences, but each one slipped away before he could voice them. Eventually he managed only two whispered words.

“What happened?”

Fielding looked down and sighed heavily with a slight shake of her head as she considered how to explain it to him.

“What happened to me?” He yelled, forcing the doctor to look sharply up in surprise.

Her expression of shock at the response once again changed Party’s own. He shrank back into the seat and lowered his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, staring at his knees.

Fielding reached through the gap between the seats and took his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Don’t be sorry,” she dipped her head to try to make eye-contact with him. “This is a good sign I think.”  
“I’m not ten, am I?” Party sighed. “How old am I? And… and why do I think…”  
“No, you're not ten and I'm sorry, I don’t know how old you are. Mid twenties maybe?”  
“I’m old!” He drew out the word and found himself chuckling lightly at the idea.  
“Your last question, I can answer. You’ve been drugged and sort of hypnotised to take you back to a vulnerable age when you were frightened.”  
“Why?” Party asked.

The innocent question caused Fielding’s features to soften. How could she tell him that his uncle was so cruel and evil that he had intended to pump him full of drugs until he lost his mind and reason? Doomed to live out the rest of his life with only two terrifying memories.

“He’s not himself,” she hypothesised. “What he was doing to you, I suspect someone has already done to him.”  
“He was always good to us,” Party looked down, sadly. “But that night… when he…”  
“I’m sorry, Gerard,” she squeezed his hand once more. “I think the Uncle Grant you knew was gone long before that night. He’s Exterminator Korse now.”

Party nodded; somehow it comforted him to think that the man he knew as a boy was not the evil, callous man from whom they had just escaped.  
“I’m sorry I lost my temper, but why did you think it was a good thing?”  
“Well, it looks as though the programming might be reversing on its own. You're asserting your adult self and because of that, you're surprising your child self. I think you must have been a very good boy.”  
Party nodded. “I try. Doctor, I feel strange… am I supposed to?”  
“Strange how?”

Party lifted a hand to show that he was noticeably trembling. His normally pale skin seemed to have taken on a greyish tinge and she could now see that his brow was damp.

“I feel sick,” he explained. “And dizzy.”  
“I think we need to get you inside.”

*

Kobra was driving and the needle on the tachometer was buried firmly in the red. Ghoul was grimacing; he understood, he even approved but he also knew that he would also be the one who had to fix the engine when the time came.

Outside the trans am, sand whirled, disturbed by the wheels as Kobra pushed the car beyond its normal capabilities. All windows were closed to protect them from the choking tornadoes of dust and debris that formed as they passed. Inside, the morning heat was magnified, intensifying their focus and strengthening their determination to succeed.

“Are we clear on the plan?” Jet asked quietly.  
“Yeah,” Kobra replied without taking his eyes off the road for a moment.  
“You’re sure he can get us in undetected?” Ghoul asked.  
“If anyone can, it’s Coffin,” Jet nodded with certainty.

A thick calm settled over the occupants of the car as they focused on the task ahead of them. Red chewed her lower lip; she wanted to ask a question, but the serious determination on the faces of the three men gave her pause. Glancing in the rear view mirror, Kobra fixed her with a curious glance before raising an eyebrow.

“Go on, you can ask,” he smirked.  
“I know,” Red replied, matching his amused expression.  
“Well?” Kobra pressed, glancing in the mirror again.  
“I know the plan, but I’m wondering who this Coffin Dancer guy is?”  
“Ghoul, do you want to field this one?” Kobra began. “It might take your mind off what I’m doing to the engine.” He added with a cheeky sideways glance.

Ghoul sighed; was his expression and concern so blatant? Clearly the answer was yes, but more than that, he realised with a slight frown, Kobra knew it annoyed him and still did it anyway. Today was an exception though - today it was allowed. Ghoul half turned in his seat so that he could look into the back - this was going to take some explaining.

“Coffin is…” he paused as he tried to find the right words. “He’s like…”  
“Harder to describe than Kami?” Red offered.  
“Oh,” A short laugh burst from Ghoul’s lips. “Yeah, he is. Jet?”

Jet rolled his eyes; he had seen the deflection coming with the same inevitability as the collision of two trains rushing towards each other on the same track.

“Coffin is like…” he paused.  
“Okay! I get it! He’s like nothing else on earth.” Red shook her head, bewildered by the lack of information. “I have to meet this guy!”  
“No!” Jet replied immediately with a panicked tone.  
“No, you don’t!” Kobra responded almost at the same time.  
“Not a good idea,” Ghoul agreed.  
“What’s going on?” Red asked. “Who is he?”  
“He works for BLI, he’s a draculoid. Or… at least, he poses as one,” Jet explained.  
“What?” Red narrowed her eyes. “You can’t pose as a draculoid! The tech in the masks… you can’t fight that.”  
“He’s made his own,” Ghoul explained. “It looks real, but…”  
“So he says,” Red scoffed.  
“Wow!” Kobra shook his head slowly. “You’re even more paranoid than Party!”  
“Party’s not paranoid,” Ghoul grumbled. “He’s careful.”  
“Fat lot of good that’s done him!” Red scowled. “I can’t believe you trust a drac!”  
“I told you, he’s not a drac,” Jet insisted. “He’s kind of a rebel sympathiser. He’s sometimes referred to as The Sad Man. He gives us tip offs of prisoner transfers and shipments.”  
“How?” Red folded her arms as Jet tried to explain.  
“He meets us in the desert at night, usually once a month to six weeks. It’s not regular, so he doesn’t attract attention.”  
“Why’s he called the Sad Man?”  
“Because he’s about the only BLI drone who isn’t taking their drugs and all happy happy.”  
“And why Coffin Dancer?” Red asked, more subdued but still not entirely happy with the responses.  
“Because he’s got more lives than a sack full of cats. Somehow, no matter what, the man is Dust Proof!”  
“Legend has it that he’s got something going on with the Phoenix Witch, so she doesn’t take him,” Ghoul added.  
“Really?” Red frowned unimpressed.  
“No, not really,” Jet replied, mildly irritated by Ghoul’s flippancy.  
“So, a drac who magically survives every dangerous encounter is getting us into Bat City through a secret tunnel entrance used for prisoner transfers. So we’re effectively driving straight into BLI’s cells and it’s not a trap?”  
“Well,” Jet rolled his eyes, “when you say it like that…”  
“It’s not a trap,” Ghoul insisted, adopting what he hoped sounded like a serious and certain tone. “If he was going to do that, he’d have done it years ago.”

Red cleared her throat loudly, making a sound that sounded distinctly like ‘Candi’.

“Then we’ll be careful,” Kobra suggested quietly. “We have to get in there somehow and this is as good a method as any. If it’s a trap, it’s no worse than trying to fight our way in and out through the front doors. That would be suicide!”  
“Agreed,” Jet added.  
“Yeah, okay,” Red nodded.  
“Sure?” Jet asked, lifting a questioning eyebrow.  
“Well,” Red smiled, “when you say it like that…”

Smiling at the response, Jet squeezed his sister’s hand. He liked that she had her own thoughts and ideas, that she questioned decisions to make sense of them or even improve them. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest. She was a Toro - brave, analytical and a little wilful at times - she was fitting in well.

“Hang on, that still doesn't explain why you don't want me to meet him.”

Ghoul pursed his lips' he genuinely believed they had sidestepped that question.

“It’s not that we don’t want…” Kobra began slowly, desperately trying to think of a plausible reason.

“He's not a sympathiser at all, is he?” Red asked pointedly. “What is he? Mercenary? Double agent? Plant?”

An awkward silence hung in the car for a few moments before Red prompted again.

“Well?”  
“All of the above.”  
“Ghoul!” Jet gasped, shocked at the ease at which he gave up.  
“What?” Ghoul turned again in his seat to look at Jet. “Her own imagination is going to assume worse if we say nothing.”  
“Worse? Are you sure about that?” Jet snapped, his mouth turned down into an irritated and angry grimace.  
“You still don't trust me!” Red fumed, crossing her arms indignantly.  
“What?” Jet replied, genuinely astonished. “No! It's him.”  
“Sorry, I'm confused,” Red’s voice grew in volume and pitch as she became increasingly frustrated. “You don't trust this guy but you're still driving us all into the cells?”  
“No!” Jet replied, exasperated. “It's not…”  
“We don't want to see your face on a wanted poster, or worse, an extermination poster,” Kobra interrupted to finally explain.  
“But…” Red frowned now deeply confused. “Why would he… I mean…?”  
“You were right calling him a mercenary,” Ghoul spoke softly. “We pay him, so do BLI, so does anyone who wants information.”  
“He’ll sell information to anyone?” Red asked.  
“Pretty much,” Ghoul nodded with a shrug. “I reckon BLI know about his custom made mask too. He gives them information on us, he gives us information on them.”  
“And you trust him, why?”  
“Well,” Kobra offered a lopsided smile as he looked in the mirror once more, “he has some standards, you know. He only ever works for one side at any given time.”  
“Wow!” Red shook her head at the revelation. “I really can't believe I'm hearing this.”  
“Welcome to our world.” Ghoul shrugged. “If it's any consolation, we can't believe it either!”

*

Exterminator Korse looked up at the rap on his office door. He had only just returned from his humiliating experience of having been taken at gunpoint by Fielding as she helped Party Poison escape. Having been knocked unconscious and left unguarded in his own car in the underground car park, he was simply thankful to have woken up. There were many who hated him enough to kill and he knew he had his team to thank for finding him so quickly but he burned with anger at what she had put him through. He had still been unconscious when he was found and escorted back to BLI headquarters and although he was relatively unhurt, his pride was severely dented. He had lost face and he was determined that both Party and Fielding would pay dearly for that. The knock at the door could only be one of two things - Party and Fielding had been located or the Killjoys were on their way. He didn’t mind which; either would return the smile to his face.


	34. Android Party is 'rescued'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Has Party managed to do enough in the memory chamber to cause Android Party to slip?

“Enter,” Korse called without even looking up.

The door opened and a draculoid walked towards the desk, waiting patiently with his hands clasped behind his back as Korse continued to ignore him for a few more moments.

“Well?” He finally asked, glancing up expectantly.   
“Exterminator Korse, the Killjoys are approaching.”  
“Excellent,” he smiled thinly. “Arrange for them to rescue the Party Poison android with convincing but minimum resistance. I understand that our contact has arranged for them to enter through the tunnel that accesses the cells directly?”  
“Yes, sir, at the speed they’re approaching, they can't be more than twenty minutes away.”  
“How is the search for Doctor Fielding and Party Poison progressing?”

The draculoid lowered his head, this was not something he wanted to tell Korse; he was not one to shy away from literally killing the messenger.

“Sir, she has escaped from Battery City.”

About to continue, the draculoid paused as Korse rose slowly and threateningly to his feet. Leaning forward over the desk, Korse placed his hands flat on the toughened glass desktop and scowled at the draculoid.

“How?” He growled.  
“Sir, we had people looking for her car and we gave her name and their descriptions out to all gatehouses…”  
“So? I ask again - how did she escape?”  
“Sir, a car passed through Gatehouse 6a. She said she was a doctor heading for Zone 3 but it wasn't her car and she had papers saying her name was Dr Chris Harrison…”  
“Dr Harrison is male!” Korse screamed with a terrifying mix of frustration and anger. “She replaced him!”  
“But, sir, she was on her own, everything seemed in order and he let her through. He couldn't have known, sir!” The draculoid pleaded with Korse to understand the genuine mistake.  
“The gatehouses were on high alert?” Korse forced out through gritted teeth.  
“Yes, sir,” the draculoid muttered in reply.  
“Did he search the car?” Korse paused for a reply and on not receiving one, raised his voice once more to the frightened man in front of him. “Well? Did he?”  
“No, sir.”  
“No, sir,” Korse repeated with contempt as he rounded the desk. “Did he run the name through the computer?”  
“No, sir.”  
“No, sir,” Korse spat out the words angrily, furious with the response. “Get me the recording of her exit, find the drone responsible and process him.”  
“P-process, sir?” The man stammered.  
“You heard me! Now get out and arrange for the android’s rescue before I give the order for you to be processed too!”  
“Sir,” the man nodded stiffly before turning and almost running from the room.  
“Wait!” Korse bellowed as the draculoid was about to close the door behind him.  
“Sir?” He asked meekly.  
“The porno droid, Green PD68B, where is she?”  
“I… I don't know, sir.”  
“See if you can track her. I expect she will have some unique circuitry that will enable her to be traced? Speak to the tech department. If she went with them, it’ll be like having a homing beacon. We may yet find them quickly.” 

Korse smiled cruelly, barely noticing that the draculoid had responded and left. Tapping his fingers together, his smile broadened into a satisfied smirk.

“You’re not free yet, Poison,” he chuckled to himself.

*

“Okay,” Kobra began, “we’re two minutes from driving into BLI’s cells. Anyone want to get out of the car?”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ghoul grumbled.  
“It means we might be about to commit suicide and I don't want to…”  
“Just drive, Kobra,” Ghoul snapped back. “You’re not the only one who cares about Party, you know?”  
“I’m guessing that was actually aimed at me,” Red leaned through the gap in the seats and placed a hand on Kobra’s shoulder.   
“Not aimed!” Kobra turned his head briefly. “I just…”  
“You don't want to assume I'm willing to sacrifice myself,” she explained, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze.

Jet turned a worried glance to the young woman. He appreciated Kobra's concern; he just hoped that Red would see it for what it really was and not take Ghoul’s interpretation.

“Like you said, I'm one of you now. We’re in this together, yeah?” She smiled. “All for one and all that.”  
“Sorry,” Ghoul added quietly, but loud enough to be heard. “I guess I'm tense and I… What's that?”

Ghoul broke from his apology to point to the vehicle standing in the centre of the tunnel. It was a large shiny black van and even from the distance they were at, they could pick out the distinctive S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W logo printed on the side. 

“Looks like we’ve arrived in the middle of a transfer,” Jet scowled. “We could do without this. We can’t ignore it and it's only going to hold us up!”

Kobra checked the time and frowned deeply.

“We’re right on time,” he announced. “Coffin was sure there would be nothing going on!”  
“Should we split up? Maybe we…” Red offered, only to stop suddenly as Ghoul shouted excitedly.  
“Party! It’s Party! That must be why Coffin gave us this time to arrive!” 

He was practically bouncing in his seat as he gestured to the rapidly approaching scene in front of them. Kobra’s eyes widened with pure delight and Jet leaned forward to get a better view; all four barely able to believe their good fortune. With the car’s roof pushed back, Jet and Ghoul rose from their seats and took aim. 

It seemed clear to them that no one had anticipated such a well-timed rescue attempt. With Party heavily chained and only able to shuffle slowly, they must have considered him of minimal threat. As a consequence, there was barely a handful of guards.

As Ghoul fired his first shot, felling a guard, the Party android turned his head sharply and beamed a broad smile at the approaching car. Hurling himself to the floor, he rolled underneath the van in an attempt to avoid being accidentally shot and also to be out of reach of any guards wishing to use him as a shield.

The battle took only minutes and once over, Android Party was crawling with difficulty out from under the van, severely restricted by the chains. Behind them, further down the tunnel they could hear the sound of shouting and running and they knew there was no time for reunions. Turning the car quickly, Kobra paused the trans am just long enough for Jet and Red to drag Android Party into the back seat. Revving the engine, Kobra spun the wheels furiously for a few moments, kicking up dirt, sand and smoke, filling the tunnel with a choking wall of debris. Releasing the emergency brake, Kobra allowed the car to speed away toward the tunnel entrance. As they raced out, Jet and Red lifted their home made bazooka and, firing it, brought part of the tunnel crashing down behind them. If BLI were going to try to follow, that would certainly prevent them.

Racing out into the daylight, with the tachometer needle firmly buried in the red section. They were half way to Zone 1 before they slowed, finally satisfied that they were not being followed.

Kobra brought the car to a complete stop and beamed a broad smile via the rear view mirror.

“Let’s get you out of those chains!” He grinned. “We’ve got some bolt cutters in the trunk.”

All five piled out of the trans am. Still cautious, as they emerged from the car each of them checked their surroundings but as far as they could see, there was nothing but sand in any direction for miles. With his hands secured at his waist, Android Party allowed Jet to help him from the car but as soon as was he standing, Jet threw his arms around him, pulling him into a relieved hug as he waited for Kobra to fetch the bolt cutters.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Jet,” Android Party laughed, “but it would be much less awkward if I could move my hands away from your crotch.”

Pulling back, Jet glanced down and laughed, only now realising the problem caused by Android Party’s wrists being cuffed to a thick belt secured around his waist. 

“We’ll get you out of that now, don’t worry,” he chuckled, stepping back and allowing Kobra to approach. “Where were they taking you?”  
“De Witt’s Maximum Security Penitentiary,” he replied, nodding at Jet’s astonished expression. “Yeah, you wouldn’t have got me out of there so easily!”  
“You think that was easy?” Red quipped as Kobra began to cut the locks.

Making short work of the chains, Kobra cast the cutters to one side as he pulled what he believed to be be his brother close for a happy embrace.

“Good to see you again, bro,” Kobra sighed. “You had me worried.”  
“I knew you'd find me,” Android Party replied, patting Kobra on the back and slowly pulling out of the hug. “But, first things first, where's my little girl? I've missed you so much!”

Ghoul’s head snapped up, astonished at the words. Surely he didn't mean him, but who else? All eyes widened as Party pulled Red close and before she had chance to object, pressed his lips firmly to hers.

Android Party felt Red’s hands pressing on his chest only seconds before she drew up a knee to target his crotch. At the same time Kobra was trying to push Party back away from her. Sensing a possible fight, Jet was separating the two brothers and Ghoul was still standing perfectly still, open mouthed and speechless. 

“What the absolute fuck, Party!” Kobra screamed.  
“What?” 

Android Party leaned back against the trans am, surrounded by a sea of angry faces. Each one could see that he seemed oblivious to what was wrong.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kobra shouted, leaving android Party more confused than ever.  
“Apologise, now!” Jet insisted.  
“Who to?” Android Party shrugged. “What? A guy can't kiss his girlfriend now?”  
“Girlfriend?” Kobra spluttered. “Since when did you have a girlfriend?”  
“What the hell did they do to you?” Red frowned, suddenly more sad than angry.

Android Party frowned; something was wrong. The memory that was at the forefront of his mind had meshed well with the briefing that Exterminator Korse had given him. Was it possible that the memory was false. He searched through the remaining selection of memories that had been downloaded. There was one of a violent argument with Fun Ghoul, also at the forefront, but the remaining memories attached to him were tender and passionate. Android Party looked over to the shorter man, still staring in disbelief. He noted that his eyes were pained and seemed to glisten in the sun.

“Ghoul?” Android Party saw now that Ghoul’s eyes were brimming with tears. “I… I'm sorry, man… I…”  
“It's good to have you back,” Ghoul choked out, moving forward to give him a brief hug before walking away.  
“This had better be BLI related, Party,” Kobra growled poking a finger into the android’s chest. “Because if that's how you're choosing to tell him you're straight, brother or not, I might just beat the shit out of you myself!”

Jet watched briefly as Kobra headed after Ghoul before turning back to face android Party.

“What did they do to you?” He asked sympathetically.  
“Jet… I'm sorry. My head’s all messed up. I genuinely believed that…” the android turned to look apologetically at Red. “I had a memory… I thought it was real.”  
“What about Ghoul?” Red asked quietly.   
“I… I need to speak to him,” he replied, pushing himself away from the car only to be held back by Jet.  
“Wait here,” Jet instructed. “I’ll see how he is first.”

Android Party nodded. Inwardly, he knew that to have been able to plant the false memories, Party could not have been anywhere near as broken and weak as Korse had thought. Either that, or Party was stronger than he was given credit for. Now he had to regain their trust. If he admitted that BLI had altered his memories, that would look bad enough, but he had to be certain that they didn't think he had been altered in other ways. He had already sent images of Red back to BLI with the correction that she was not Party's girlfriend and that it seemed that Ghoul was his boyfriend. The more information he could send back, the better the direction he would receive in return.

 

*

As Jet approached Ghoul and Kobra he was surprised to hear them arguing. Having just threatened to beat up his own brother, he thought Kobra had taken Ghoul’s side but now he was yelling at him too.

“Hey!” Jet called, running the last few feet. “What’s going on? Why are you yelling at Ghoul? It's not his fault!”  
“No?” Kobra turned a scowl towards Jet. “You haven't heard his latest theory. Are you going to tell him or shall I?” He addressed the final comment to Ghoul.   
“Theory?” Jet asked calmly.  
"That's not Party," Ghoul announced, crossing his arms and waiting for the inevitable objections. 

Jet turned an incredulous glance from Ghoul to Party, who was still standing with Red near the car. Looking back at Ghoul once more he raised his eyebrows to indicate the need for a more detailed explanation. 

"It's not Party," Ghoul stated once more as if it should be obvious to all.   
"I think I know what my own brother looks like," Kobra argued, unimpressed with Ghoul’s announcement.  
"I don't know what to tell you except it's not him."  
"Well," Jet took a deep breath, "if he’s not Party, who is he?"   
"I didn't say I had all the answers," Ghoul pouted, now sensing a wave of anger washing over him.   
"Is this just because he kissed Red? I mean, yeah, that threw me too. They've done something to him and he’s confused, sure, but he's still Party!" Jet reasoned.   
"No! No to all your points. It's not because he kissed Red and he’s not confused.” Ghoul insisted. “He's not confused because he's not Party! Why won't you listen to me?"  
"Because you're not making any sense!" Kobra snapped angrily.  
"Why do you think he's not Party?" Jet asked calmly, trying to maintain peace between his two friends.   
"Because he doesn't smell right," Ghoul explained, shuffling his feet in an awkward response to the embarrassment he felt at such a personal revelation.   
"You're saying my brother smells?" Kobra raised his eyebrows.   
"Well, sometimes, yeah," Ghoul tipped his head and shrugged as he gave it more thought. "But whoever, or for that matter, whatever..."  
"Whatever?" Kobra gasped, astonished at the word.   
"Whatever that is," Ghoul continued, "he smells of nothing."  
“Whatever?” Kobra repeated, staring with wide incredulous eyes.

Jet frowned as he considered Ghoul's words. 

"It was an easy rescue," he mused.   
"You're taking him seriously?" Kobra turned on Jet.   
"I know it's hard to believe," Jet admitted.   
"Well, duh!" Kobra rolled his eyes.   
"But, how about we consider the possibility? We know if nothing else they've messed with his head. How about we take him to the hospital in Nystad? Can't hurt, right?"

Ghoul nodded. In another time, Jet could have been a diplomat. The idea seemed to satisfy Kobra too. 

"I want to be wrong," Ghoul shrugged. "I really do. I just don't think I am. Thanks, Jet, the hospital is a great idea. Whatever's happened, we need to get him there anyway."  
"Hopefully we'll find some answers there and…” he paused as he considered what the reaction might be. “Just for now, we’ll keep it to ourselves.”  
“Where we’re going or that he thinks Party’s an imposter?” Kobra grumbled.   
“Both,” Jet frowned.   
“You know that if what your saying is true, then we're back to square one and having no clue where Party is,” Kobra snapped.   
“I know that,” Ghoul suddenly appeared deflated. “But just because I don't like it, it doesn't mean I can ignore what I know! You think I like telling you that that's not your brother, the man I love, over there?”  
“There's always a possibility that he’s some sort of decoy?” Jet mused.  
“You mean, the real Party is in De Witt’s?” Ghoul’s voice cracked as he spoke.

It was as if a cloud had suddenly settled over the three men. None of them wanted to say it, but if he was there, they would probably never see him again. Pulling each other together for a supportive group hug, the three took comfort in the closeness of their friends. 

“Come on,” Jet broke the hug. “Let's get him to the hospital in Nystad.”


	35. The scene is set for a showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fielding gets a surprise and tensions overflow in the trans am

Fielding turned to unlock the car doors before stepping out and slowly helping Party to his feet and out of the rear passenger seat. 

“Is that your friend?” Fielding admired the impressive drawing that had been left on the seat. “Frankie?”

Party glanced down, momentarily losing his balance, his head swimming. 

“Never mind, Gerard,” Fielding shook her head. “Let“s just get you inside.”  
“Yeah, that’s Frankie,” he replied with a faint smile.

Reaching down, as he steadied himself, Party picked up the sketch and quickly folding it, he stuffed the paper into his jeans back pocket.

Once they were both outside the car, Fielding signalled for Party to lean against the car and wait while she opened the trunk and reactivated Green, relieved to find her still functioning. Sitting up, Green was astonished to discover that they were beyond the city walls and her batteries were still charged. It had been a lie that she had lived in fear of for so long. Rising quickly and stepping from the car, she looked quickly from Fielding to Party and back.

“What do you need me to do?” She asked.  
“I need you to help me take Gerard into the hospital, and when we’re nearly there, I want you to run ahead and brief a doctor that I’m a doctor and bringing in a man who is ill and needs immediate attention. Do not give his name, or tell anyone that he’s been tortured by BLI. If anyone asks, I found him like this. Is that okay?”  
“Yes, doctor,” Green acknowledged the instructions and took one of Party’s arms while Fielding took the other.

It seemed an age, walking slowly to the main doors of the hospital. The parking lot was largely deserted, which Fielding was delighted to see - the last thing she needed was a full hospital and very possibly people who would recognise the flame-haired young man. Near the entrance, Green set off on her own to fetch a doctor from inside and it was at that point that Fielding’s expression turned to one of distress as she noticed the dilapidated condition of the building. The doors, that had once been automatic were wedged open - on one side with a block of wood and on the other with a lump of concrete. The floor tiles were cracked, as were two of the windows near to the door. It was... the best she could muster to describe it was ‘trying to be clean’ but failing in several areas. In the lobby stood two empty vending machines, a row of plastic chairs and an unmanned reception desk. Green was nowhere in sight; in fact there was no one around at all.

“Hello?” She called, helping Party to a seat, her expression crumpling with pity as he immediately lay down across the row. From his grey complexion, it struck her that he desperately needed urgent medical attention. “Hello!” She shouted again. “Doctor?”

After the second shout, she could hear the sound of footsteps moving towards her down the corridor on the opposite side of the lobby. She desperately hoped it would be another doctor or even a nurse, someone, anyone who could help. 

Turning back to Party, she knelt at his side and stroked his hair gently, noticing with a frown that it was now damp with sweat.

“What do we have?” A male voice called from the corridor. “Chloe?”

Fielding looked up sharply at the sound of her name. It was so unexpected, she lost her balance and almost slipped over onto her left hip.

“Chris!” She almost stammered, stunned to see her friend and colleague, Dr Chris Harrison, alive and working in so bleak a place. “I thought you were dead.”  
“Huh, well, but for a hefty bribe, I would be,” he replied, jogging the remaining few feet to her side and crouching beside her. “We can talk later. What have you got?”  
“BLI torture victim,” she replied with detail she hadn’t previously felt comfortable sharing.  
“BLI?” He frowned, taking Party’s pulse. “When did you get out?”

Fielding offered a short laugh and shook her head.

“About two hours ago.”  
“Two hours? I guess he’s the reason you left? You and him...?” He asked with a light shrug and a smile.  
“No, it was... I was drafted to the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit. I couldn’t stand what they were doing to him.”  
“What were they doing? Memory erasing? Interrogation?”  
“Korse regressed him to age ten and was trying to drive him insane. He’s been drugged and...”  
“What!” Harrison sat back on his heels. “That’s a new one! What for?”  
“He... it’s a long story.”  
“Okay,” he shrugged. “Let’s take a look at him.”

Dr Harrison pushed Party’s hair back from his face and took a deep nervous breath.

“You know who this is, I presume? Party Poison; probably BLI’s most wanted man.”  
“Yes,” she nodded, realising as he spoke that Party had passed out. “I know who he is.”  
“Oh, right, because you were acting like you didn’t. Are you sure you and him aren’t a thing?”  
“I’m sure,” she replied sternly. “He’s not how BLI are portraying him.”  
“He tell you that, did he?” He asked sceptically. “You threw away your career, maybe your life, on the word of a notorious rebel?”  
“Hang on a minute,” Fielding frowned deeply with confusion at Harrison’s words. “This from the man who had to bribe someone to stop BLI from killing him? You’re defending them?”  
“No, I’m not defending them and yeah, I found out the hard way what they’re like, but you had a good life there.”  
“So I don’t have as good a moral compass as you? Is that it?” Fielding snapped, insulted by the intimation.

Harrison sighed; the conversation had gone all wrong and he truly wished he could have started it over from the beginning, but that wasn’t possible. What was possible was an apology and an explanation.

“I’m sorry, Chloe, that’s not what I meant at all. Hear me out.” He gathered his thoughts before continuing. “BLI are evil. I know that and I’m sure they were doing terrible things to him, but I also wonder what sort of things he’s done to warrant extermination? They don’t just hand that sentence out lightly.”  
“He’s related to Korse,” Fielding explained simply.

Harrison took a deep breath as he considered her words. 

“Ouch! That’s got to hurt.”  
“Him or Korse?” Fielding asked, still wondering if he thought she’d been suckered into throwing her life away.  
“I can’t imagine it being much fun for either of them. Makes sense though, I bet Korse is seriously embarrassed.”  
“I don’t think it’s in him to be embarrassed,” Fielding grumbled.  
“Well, whatever he feels, he’s certainly done a number on him. What’s he presenting?”

Fielding looked with curiosity at her former colleague, still uncertain if he was willing to help.

“Dizziness, nausea, hot and cold sweats and... well now he’s unconscious. He’s been drugged and regressed. He thinks he’s ten years old. I need help to get him back to the present.”  
“You do know the very real danger of bringing him here, don’t you?”  
“Chris, are you going to help us or not? Because if you’re not, I need to get him to Overmorsen.”  
“There isn’t a hospital in Overmorsen, just a clinic and... you don’t need to take him anywhere.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I hate BLI for what they do too but I’m really quite fond of staying alive.”  
“So, if they come for us, hand us over,”she snapped irritably.  
“It’s not that straightforward, you know that,” he returned.  
“I’m taking him to Overmorsen.” Fielding rose to her feet, shaking Party as she stood over him.  
“There isn’t...”  
"Yes, I heard you. There’s no hospital in Overmorsen, but I’m willing to take my chances.”  
“I’ll help,” Harrison raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I’ll help. If they come, I’ll claim ignorance. I haven’t seen him.”  
“You’re going to talk to BLI? You? They think you’re dead! What if Korse comes here?”  
“It’s a bit late to be worrying about that, isn’t it?” Harrison’s voice rose in pitch.  
“Well, I didn’t know you were here, did I?” Fielding’s tone now matched his.  
“No, no, I’m sorry,” he sighed again.  
“Just kiss, already,” Party slurred from his position, lying across several chairs, bringing a light laugh to Fielding’s lips.  
“Forward, isn’t he?” Harrison shook his head in dismay.

Distracted by the sudden approach of Green, her movements quick and jerky and her expression pensive, both doctors turned to face her.

“What is it?” Fielding asked.  
“Doctor Fielding,” Green spoke. “My assignment chip is being tracked. If I remain here, a squad of draculoids will be here here soon. Possibly even Exterminator Korse himself.”  
“Can you stop the trace?” Fielding asked, concerned for their safety.  
“I’m afraid not,” Green replied softly. “I believe they have located me. What I’m sensing now is more of a beacon signal.”  
“Is there anything we can do?” Fielding asked, unwilling to move on giving Party’s worrying condition but equally afraid to stay.  
“I will take the car and drive as far from here as I can before they catch up with me.”  
“But, when they do, they’ll...” Fielding gasped at the remarkable sacrifice Green seemed willing to take.  
“I know, doctor, but I am programmed to protect him. His life is more important than mine. I have to ensure his safety.”

Fielding reached into her pocket and handed the keys to the porno droid with a look of admiration.

“Thank you and... good luck,” she nodded, clasping the android’s hand briefly.  
“I’ll lead them away. He’ll be safe.”

Fielding watched momentarily as the android walked briskly to the exit.

“They were my car keys, weren’t they?” Harrison asked in a resigned tone.  
Fielding licked her lips with a measure of embarrassment. “Um... yeah. Sorry.”  
“Oh, well, it’s not like I could have gone back for it anyway. Okay, let’s fix him before anyone finds him here.”  
“Thanks, Chris, I owe you,” Fielding smiled, placing a hand gently on his arm.  
“Yes,” he nodded with a curious mixture of both certainty and disbelief in his eyes. “Yes, you do!”

*

Android Party was sitting in the front passenger seat of the trans am watching Kobra drive. In the rear passenger seats, Ghoul had taken his usual driver’s side place and was taking advantage of it to watch android Party intently. Beside him, Jet was in the middle seat and Red was by the door. Kobra was frowning deeply as he drove; Jet’s choice of seat was out of character. He typically preferred to sit near the door in case he was needed in a firefight. There really was only one reason for it and that was to keep Red as far from Party’s reach as it was possible to get in the car - sitting directly behind him was the least accessible position. Even Kobra had to admit he was conflicted; if Ghoul was right, he too wanted Red far from the imposter, but Ghoul wasn’t right. He couldn’t be right, the idea was ridiculous; he knew his own brother. And yet, his frown deepened still further as Ghoul’s words seeped into his brain; doubt was starting to eat away at his confidence. 

The expression on Jet’s face wasn’t any lighter. Not since the revelation when the three of them had returned to the car that Red had proudly disclosed that he had missed the discovery that she was Jet’s sister and had changed her name to Red Star because of it. If this Party really was a BLI spy, decoy or something else, then it was likely that he had the means to let BLI know. The last thing he wanted was to see her face on the cover of the Battery City Times. Or worse, on a poster.

Ghoul was barely blinking as he stared angrily at android Party. Red could understand that to an extent. Party’s actions had deeply hurt Ghoul and it seemed to her that he could be firmly fixed in a impassioned sulk once he decided to play the victim. That part, she understood. But she didn’t understand why the car was running deathly silent with a pall hanging over them like a thunder cloud. No one had said anything after she had told them what she and Party had discussed when they were away cooling Ghoul down. But she had noticed their expressions and the feeling of disapproval and concern had bothered her.

“Are we going back to...” she began, only to be interrupted by Ghoul.  
“Don’t say her name!” 

He almost shouted, in an attempt to protect Kami from detection by BLI. Her only crime being harbouring rebels. Even rebel sympathisers could be arrested; if anyone knew she had housed and fed them, she would never see the light of day again.

“In fact,” he continued, with a sullen growl in his tone, “don’t mention anyone’s name.”  
“All right,” Red looked at Ghoul, Jet and Kobra in turn. “What’s going on?”  
“Nothing’s going on,” Kobra briefly looked back from the wheel.  
“No, of course not,” Ghoul replied with his voice dripping with sarcasm. “There’s absolutely no weirdness in the car at all. Everyone’s happy, the birds are singing and...”  
“Enough!” Jet snapped. “Kobra, how long until we get there?”  
“Just a few minutes, now,” he replied with a sigh.  
“Don’t change the subject!” Red insisted. “Tell me what’s going on. Jet?”

Jet sighed; he didn’t want to talk about their doubts in front of Party. If it was him, he’d feel terrible. If it wasn’t, he’d be aware that they knew. He’d know soon enough where they were headed now anyway, it didn’t seem necessary to keep it secret any longer.

“We’re going to the hospital to get Party checked over,” he announced.  
“That doesn’t explain the atmosphere in the car,” she continued to press.

Jet turned and offered his best ‘drop it’ expression, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he did.

“I’m all right, Jet,” Android Party insisted. “I don’t need a check up.”  
“You forgot who Ghoul is, and Red for that matter.”  
“They drugged me, Jet, messed with my memory. I’m still me!”  
“Did anyone say you weren’t?” Ghoul asked bitterly as he leaned forward and poked Android Party’s arm.  
“I’m sorry, Ghoul, I really am,” Android Party turned to face him.   
“What for, Party? What exactly are you sorry for? Do you even know?” Ghoul began to grow steadily more agitated.  
“Of course I know!” He replied without elaborating further.

He sounded sincere, but to Ghoul’s irritation, he sounded innocent.

“We’re here,” Kobra announced without enthusiasm as he pulled up in the largely empty parking lot.  
“Party,” Jet began. “We just want to make sure that all their drugs are out of your system and make sure you’re okay.”

Android Party pushed a hand through his hair. If he objected, they would suspect something was wrong - if they didn’t already - but if he went inside, the doctor would know immediately. Nodding his agreement, he reached for the door handle to exit the car. There were few options open to him.


	36. Heading for a showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Android Party is found out

“What’s the problem, _Party_?” Ghoul growled, emphasising his name. “Surely once all the drugs are out of your system, you’ll be fine again.”  
“I’m fine now,” Android Party replied, turning back to face him adopting a slight air of irritation.  
“Yeah, you’re fine,” Ghoul scowled.  
“All the same,” Jet reasoned. “It’s best to check.”

Android Party nodded; there was very little he could do. Opening the car door, he stepped out into the bright sunshine closely followed by Ghoul, emerging only seconds after and taking a deep breath. After the stifling air in the car, he almost felt like he was stepping out into a spring day. Compared with Zone 6, the temperature in Zone 1 could be considered moderate, but the harsh glaring brightness of the sun was just as unforgiving. Reaching for his sunglasses, as Jet, Kobra and Red stepped out of the car, Ghoul stared again at Android Party and frowned deeply. He wasn’t squinting. Party always squinted in the sun. He had surprisingly sensitive eyes and usually opted to wear visors that reminded Ghoul of swimming goggles, which was particularly amusing to him, because he knew full well that Party couldn’t swim. What was the point of learning to swim? Party would argue, we live in the desert! Even the excuse that he was protecting his eyes seemed ludicrous as Ghoul would often wake in the night and find Party hunched over a table, screwing his eyes up, trying to draw by moonlight. Party often complained that he didn’t like wearing his mask because he couldn’t wear his visors underneath it but Ghoul would tease him about the real reason - his eyelashes were so long, they would touch the molded leather and make him blink constantly. Ghoul loved Party’s eyelashes. Ghoul loved Party’s everything.

Now, as he thought about all this, his eyes fixed on the imposter, wide-eyed in the mid-day sun, Ghoul’s short and fiery temper flared. Moving quickly past Kobra around to the opposite side of the car, Ghoul grabbed Android Party’s jacket and shoved him up against the Trans Am.

“Who are you?” He demanded.  
“Ghoul?” Android Party gasped, infuriating the shorter man even more. “You know me!”  
“I know Party,” he growled, his eyes lined with fury. “But you? No, I have no idea who you are!”  
“Ghoul!” Kobra shouted, slamming his hand down on the hood of the car to get his attention.

Jet rolled his eyes; the pair were way too volatile. This whole thing could probably be settled very easily with a simple visit to one of the doctors. They had visited this particular hospital many times before, the doctors knew Party and if this was someone else, a very quick test would tell them. But, Jet thought, he seemed to be the only one with enough patience to wait that long.

“Jet, what’s going on?” Red pulled at his sleeve, willing him to answer with inquisitive eyes. From the look of her, she had been trying to get his attention for a few seconds.  
“We need Party to see a doctor,” he replied quickly, starting toward the small gathering as Kobra headed briskly in Ghoul’s direction.

Red felt that she could see it coming - another fight. What was it with these guys and their testosterone levels? Fast cars, guns and fights! But this was a new one. She had seen Ghoul in many different moods - and he had many moods - happy, mischievous, thoughtful, playful, scared and sad, but she had never even suspected him of being capable of getting this angry. He looked ready to kill and kill Party at that. She didn’t know what they were keeping from her but she would find out but above all, she would stop this inevitable fight.

Running forward, she pulled on Ghoul’s arm.

“Ghoul, what’s going on?” She demanded, trying hard to pull him away, but finding him surprisingly hard to move. “It’s Party! He’s just...”  
“He’s not Party!” Ghoul insisted, looking back into the android’s eyes, his own eyes narrowed into a harsh glare.  
“Well, who am I then?” Android Party returned aggressively, shoving Ghoul backwards.  
“You’re not helping, Party!” Red snapped. “Do I have to kick...”

Red stopped suddenly, her mouth hanging open and eyes widening.

“You’re not Party!” She gasped.

Jet, standing nearby turned a surprised glance toward Red who now appeared to have everyone’s attention. What had she seen?

Android Party looked from Red to the others and back. One person insisting that he was not who he said he was, was one thing and he suspected that Jet was uncertain, but now there was another of them claiming the same thing. It seemed unlikely that they would continue to brush this off as paranoia. Perhaps something could be salvaged of the original plan to discredit the Killjoys? Party Poison had to seem as if he had been turned by BLI and an opportunity had presented itself to give that very impression. It was not the grand scale take down of their collective reputations that had been planned, but it was better than nothing.

Jet’s head snapped up as Android Party grabbed Red around the neck, pulling her close to his body and squeezing tightly. Taking a couple of urgent steps back to put some distance between himself and the others, Android Party eyed Jet, his eyes offering a cold warning that he should not step any closer. Ghoul was furious. If any of them had taken seriously this would not be happening, but it didn’t seem a good moment for ‘I told you so’s’. Kobra was terrified for both Red and his brother. If this was Party, what had happened to him? If he wasn’t, where was the real Party? Either way, Red was being strangled in front of him.

“Party!” Kobra raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. “Calm the fuck down, man! Let her go!”

Ghoul shot Kobra a furious glance, angry that, despite everything, he was still insistent that this was his brother but was somehow confused. Pulling and scratching at the android’s arm, Red tried desperately to pull it away so that she could draw a precious breath. He seemed unnaturally strong and nothing she was doing seemed to hurt him. That didn’t surprise her as much as it would have only moments earlier. She had recalled that when he had kissed her earlier after removing his chains, she had driven her knee into his crotch in an attempt to make him stop but he hadn’t even flinched. Knowing this didn’t help her now and she knew that she was close to passing out or worse. Red’s eyes rolled back as the air to her lungs was cut off quickly and completely and she began to sag in his grip, only now did he soften his hold on her. The difference was slight but enough to allow her to breathe, leading her to conclude that he needed her conscious to make good his escape.

“Let her go!” Jet yelled, inclining now towards believing Ghoul, but unwilling to let the android know that he suspected he wasn’t who he said he was. Preferring to suggest that Party was paranoid about having to go into the hospital or something similar, Jet continued to suggest that he didn’t doubt his identity. “We just want to make sure you’re clean, that’s all. If you don’t want to go in, we can...”  
“Fuck that!” Ghoul shouted drawing his gun and aiming directly at Party’s head.

Kobra spun as the flash of green in his peripheral vision alerted him to what was happening. Knocking Ghoul’s arm upward, both Kobra and Jet were astonished to see the flash of light emanating from Ghoul’s gun. Had he intentionally fired, or was it the jolt from Kobra?

Realising that Ghoul now seemed sufficiently certain to actually kill him, the android considered his options: he had very few. He would take the car and strand them at the hospital ready to be picked off when he advised Korse that the plan had changed and where he could find them.

“I’m taking the car,” Android Party announced, “and her. You three go...”

Android Party didn’t get any further before he was suddenly on his back, slamming into the ground in a cloud of dust and sand with Red falling to her knees beside him, gasping for breath but grateful she had had enough energy left to throw him. Within moments he had leaped back up to his feet without registering any pain; this was the absolute proof that Red needed. Ghoul, already certain, could no longer imagine even Kobra denying what he had seen all along.

“See!” He yelled at Kobra, striking his arm to emphasise his words. “You still think that’s Party?”

Jet pulled Red to safety and his eyes fell, concerned and angry, to the bruises forming around her neck. Glancing at Ghoul, who was once more aiming his gun, Kobra was shaken by the fact that somehow this man was not his brother and that the real Party’s whereabouts were unknown to them. Was it possible that this imposter knew? He couldn’t let Ghoul kill him.

The distraction was just enough - with unnatural speed, Android Party bolted for the hospital entrance, grabbing one of the jammed open doors and using it as leverage to swing himself into the lobby before Ghoul managed to fire off a single shot.

“Come on!” Ghoul yelled, slapping Kobra’s arm again before racing after the android.

Kobra turned concerned eyes towards Red and Jet. He felt torn, upset and bewildered. He wanted very much to go to Red’s side and comfort her, but perhaps even more so, he wanted to stop Ghoul from killing either his brother or the only link to his whereabouts he had.

“Go,” Red gasped hoarsely, waving a hand in Kobra’s direction. She was still getting her breath back and trying to stop Jet fussing over her. But above all, whoever this man was, Party or not, he was dangerous and very strong - she did not want Ghoul chasing after him on his own.

“We’ll follow,” Jet nodded, equally concerned about Ghoul but wanting to attend to his sister before rushing after them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jet saw Kobra take off, heading into the hospital at pace. Looking at Red with deep concern etched into his face, he reached to examine the bruises on her neck.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently as he helped her stand.  
“Yeah,” She croaked. “He made the mistake of thinking that I needed protecting.”

Jet raised an eyebrow; she certainly hadn’t lost her sense of humour, but he still wasn’t convinced.

“I am, Jet,” she added. “I just don’t sound it. Come on, we’ve got to help Ghoul. Something tells me he’s not thinking straight.”  
“When does he ever?” Jet muttered to himself as the pair rounded the car and headed into the hospital, guns drawn and ready to fight.

*

“So, Dr Harrison, what do we have?” A cheerful sounding elderly doctor called.  
“Sir,” Harrison began hesitantly. “This is Dr Fielding, a former colleague of mine, she...”

He didn’t get any further as the elderly man walked past him, proffering his hand.

“Dr Fielding, my name is Dr Robert Hawes. I’m the Chief of Medicine in this ramshackle old building. You’ve brought us a new patient, I see?”  
“Yes, Dr Hawes, I...”

Fielding paused as she saw Harrison staring wide-eyed at her. She guessed that he didn’t want her to mention BLI but the man’s next words were to shock them both.

“Ah, one of our frequent fliers, I see.” He laughed as he entered the private room and smiled at the flame-haired man now lying atop the bed. “And what scrapes have you been getting into this time, young man?”  
“Dr Hawes?” Party narrowed his eyes in uncertainty. “Am I right?”  
“You certainly are, Party,” the man tipped his head. “What’s wrong? Memory or eyes?”  
“Memory,” Party shrugged. “I’ve spent at least the last day thinking I’m ten years old.”  
“And how old are you now?” He asked gently.  
“I...” Party sighed and looked down. “I don’t know. I feel the same. Still ten, but I remember you. I don’t suppose I’ve known you since I was ten have I?”  
“Well, young man, there are patients I’ve seen fewer times in the last twenty five years than I have you, but no, I’ve only known you for three.”  
“You’re telling me I’m thirty five?” Party asked despondently.  
“You’re somewhere in your mid-thirties, son. I could get your file if you want me to check?”  
“No,” Party shook his head firmly. “I might find out I’m even older!”

Hawes laughed; he had been a long qualified doctor years before Party was even born. It was amusing to think that he thought himself to be old.

“Now, then, when was the last time you ate anything?”  
“I don’t know, Doc, but if I had to guess, I was probably nine.”

Hawes chuckled again as he headed for a nearby portable cabinet.

“I’ll see what we can find. There hasn’t been a shipment for a while, so we’re a bit depleted.”  
“Nothing from Candi?” Party asked, surprising himself with another partial memory.  
“I’m afraid not, but I see familiarity seems to be helping your memory. In the meantime, I want you to drink this.”  
“What is it?” Party asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“It’s an anti-hypnotic. Dr Harrison has filled me in on some of what’s been happening to you. I’ll rely on Dr Fielding for the full details, of course, but that should get the ball rolling. Now, do you think you could rest while we discuss your treatment?”

Party eyed the empty cup with suspicion.

“Well, that depends,” he looked up. “Will this knock me out?”  
“You’re weak enough, I don’t think I need to add to that, do you?”

Party smiled, relieved. He’d had quite enough of strong drugs forcing him to sleep.

“Get some rest, we’ll be back shortly.”  
“Thanks, Doc,” Party called, resting back against the old but serviceable pillow.

Outside the room, Harrison breathed a deep sigh of relief. He had wondered what he would or even could say to explain Party Poison’s presence at the hospital. It had come as a great surprise to him that not only did Dr Hawes know him, but welcomed him.

As the three walked along the corridor towards Hawes’s office, he addressed them both without looking at either.

“I know you’re new here, Dr Harrison, and this applies to you too, Dr Fielding, if you’re planning to stick around. Party Poison and the rest of the Killjoys have been very generous to this and many hospitals across the Zones. They will always receive treatment here, the finest we can offer and we will never charge. Each of you must decide how you feel about that. Given your history Dr Harrison, I can assume that you won’t report this to BLI, but I would be interested to hear your position on this, Dr Fielding.”  
“I rescued him from BLI, throwing away my career, home and probably my life in the process. I’d think you can safely assume I’m okay with you treating him.”  
“I’m sorry for your circumstances, Doctor but trust me, despite appearances, you are much better off out here in the Zones than you could ever be in BLI.” Hawes replied with a thoughtful nod.  
“I know,” she nodded. “Despite how that may have sounded, I have no regrets.”

*

Sliding to a soft, almost silent stop, Android Party smirked at the sight before him. Only yards away, lying on the bed with his eyes closed, resting peacefully was Party Poison.

Further down the corridor, he could hear the faint sound of running. It was time to shatter that peace.


	37. It’s my Party and I’ll die if I want to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discovering the real Party proves hazardous

Android Party’s smirk broadened as the footsteps came closer. Racing to Party’s bed, Android Party seized his human double by his jacket and pulled him with apparently little effort from the bed, swinging him around so that the android could place himself against the bed, trying to give the impression that Party had attacked him. Party’s eyes flew open at the motion and he immediately grabbed the jacket of his attacker, his eyes widening further as he recognised himself. As Ghoul skidded to a halt at the open doorway, Android Party played his hand.

“Who are you?” He yelled at Party. “How do you look so much like me?”  
“I look like _you_?” Party gasped. “You mean you look like _me_!”

Ghoul stood unmoving and open mouthed at the door as he stared at the two identical men, struggling with each other inside the room.

“Ghoul!” Android Party gasped, as he looked over, beaming his best elated smile. “How did you find me?”

Ghoul shook his head; uncertain how to react or which, if either of them, was the real Party Poison.

Party pulled back and out of the android’s grip; standing, breathing hard, wide-eyed and uncertain. If this man was pretending to be him and attacking him, then was it reasonable to assume that the newcomer might just do the same? He wasn’t sure. Turning confused eyes toward Ghoul, Party frowned deeply. He looked so very familiar.

“I know you,” Party spoke softly, almost hesitantly.  
“Which one of you is Party?” Ghoul finally asked, pointing his gun in their general direction but unwilling to aim.

He wasn’t sure what he hoped from that question; clearly they would both claim to be the same man. Perhaps the best he could hope for was a little more time and some breathing space.

“Ghoul, it’s me!” Android Party insisted, an air of disappointment falling over his face. “Don’t you... don’t you recognise me?”  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ghoul yelled. “Move away from each other and sit down, on the floor, both of you!”

Ghoul watched in dismay as one Party looked saddened and the other confused as they both obeyed the instruction. Ghoul frowned; that hadn’t helped. He felt certain that the real Party would have objected. Down the corridor, he could hear the sound of footsteps and glancing briefly to his left, he saw Kobra racing up to him.

“You found him?” He asked, noting Ghoul’s gun.  
“I don’t know what I’ve found!” Ghoul complained with a deep exasperated sigh.

As Kobra joined him in the doorway, his shoulders sagged as he saw the dilemma.

“Two?” He sighed, raising his eyebrows. “I owe you an apology, Ghoul. You were right.”  
“I know, but that doesn’t help us now, does it?” Ghoul replied, his tone conveying his frustration. “How’s Red?”  
“She’s okay,” Kobra confirmed. “That’ll be them now,” he added at the sound of footsteps approaching.  
“Check,” Ghoul replied with suspicion in his tone.

Kobra nodded; it was a wise suggestion. Drawing his gun, the taller man set his balance and took aim as he saw people dressed in white rounding the corner.

“Stay where you are! Drop your weapons!” He demanded, before almost immediately lowering his gun as he recognised Doctor Hawes. “Doc,” he smiled in relief, “we need your help.”  
“Kobra? I take it you’re here for Party, or is there something else?”  
“Party.” Kobra tipped his head. “But now there’s two of them.”  
“Two?” Hawes frowned. “Where?”  
“In here,” Kobra jerked a thumb to indicate the room behind him.  
“I brought in the real Party,” Fielding announced. “How can there be another?”  
“Come and see for yourself,” Kobra shrugged.

While Kobra spoke with the doctors, Ghoul had taken a few steps inside the room, still keeping what he believed to be a safe distance from the two men. He desperately wanted to run to them, to gather them up. He felt certain that he would know the real Party from his touch, his scent, his... his aura maybe? He would know Party, if he could just get close, but he had just witnessed the dangerous and unusual speed and strength of the imposter. The last thing he wanted to do was to give him a chance to wrestle his gun from him.

“Who are you?” He asked the one who had said that he believed he had recognised him but was uncertain.  
“Why should I tell you?” He asked, concerned by the gun pointed in his general direction. “You’ve got a gun on me.”  
“How about, _because_ I’ve got a gun on you!”  
“Sounds like you’ve made your mind up, then. But you’re wrong, I’m the real me. I don’t know who this is,” Party waved a hand at the android dismissively.  
“Okay, I’ve got a gun on both of you!” Ghoul snapped back, infuriated by having to coax information out of someone who, by rights, should be trying hard to convince him. “One of you is the real you... maybe. So, I ask again, who are you?”  
“My name’s Gerard and like I said, I am the real me,” he replied quietly. “Your name’s Ghoul? That’s a weird name.”  
“No weirder than Party!” Ghoul replied defensively.  
“No argument there,” Party shrugged.  
“Can’t you tell that this guy is the imposter?” Android Party growled. “He’s just pretending not to know who you are so he sounds different to how he was before you got here.”

Ghoul frowned; at face value it made sense, but something in the statement didn’t add up. Unable to immediately place what it was, Ghoul tapped the side of his leg with his free hand, as he racked his brain to locate his nagging doubt.

“Ghoul,” Kobra began, “Doctor Hawes is here. He’ll sort this out in no time.”

Both Partys looked up, their blank expressions mirroring each other.

“How did you know?” Ghoul asked Android Party, ignoring Kobra as his doubt finally occurred to him.  
“Know what?” He replied in an innocent tone.  
“That we’d know what he was like before.”  
“You came with him,” the android replied cautiously.  
“No one said that,” Ghoul narrowed his eyes.  
“You chased him in,” Android Party replied with a hint of irritation in his voice. “Or at least that’s what it looked like. I assumed you were together before.”  
“I haven’t been anywhere!” Party insisted. “Dr Fielding brought me here.”  
“Dr Fielding?” Ghoul asked, taken aback by the unfamiliar name.  
"Her!” Android Party answered as the three doctors appeared in the doorway.

Fielding was staring at both men, trying hard to see a difference between them, something that would give one of them away, but both of them were absolutely identical and scowling at her.

“What’s wrong, Gerard?” She finally asked.  
“I cant believe none of you recognise me!” Android Party responded to them all. “You got me out of BLI! You know me!” He added directly to Fielding.  
“That was me!” Party cried indignantly. “You told me you were taking me to Mikey and you lied, didn’t you!”

At the words, Kobra turned his head, believing the man who had spoken to be his brother. Fielding smiled broadly, bordering on a laugh. She too felt certain that the man who had spoken was the real Party. Whoever the other man was, he would very probably not have been aware of her promise to him. But there was one final test that would confirm it for everyone.

“Gerard,” Fielding began. “You did a drawing in the car. You remember? Of your friend, Frankie? Do you still have it?”  
“Yes,” Party replied, reaching into his back pocket to retrieve the drawing.  
“No,” Android Party interrupted. “This is a set up! She brought the imposter, I’m the real Party!”  
“You just said she got you out!” Ghoul snapped, now certain which was which. “Who are you? How do you look like Party?”

The android didn’t reply. His face had blanked and he was sitting unmoving and silent.

“He’s an android!” Fielding shouted, horrified by what she had realised. “Everyone get out of the building. Now!”  
“What? Why?” Ghoul turned his head quickly, confused by the strange and urgent instruction.  
“He’s going to self-destruct!” Fielding replied, turning on her heels, and pulling the other two doctors with her.

Ghoul turned back, Party was now on his feet and had raised his hands, uncertain whether the man calling himself Ghoul would shoot if he moved or not.

“Party!” Ghoul called frantically, waving to the red-head. “Come on!”  
“Gee!” Kobra cried from the doorway, too panicked to stick to code names. “Get out!”

The pair met in the middle as Ghoul raced forward to drag him out. But even as they reached the corridor, a mere ten feet beyond the doorway, a bright flash of white heat hit them from behind. Flames, shattered pieces of equipment and assorted other debris shot out of the room as if by a cannon and all around them the concrete walls and ceiling began to crumble and fall in a hazy cloud of dust and rubble. The thunderous rumble carried through the corridors as the doctors raced to escape, dodging falling fixtures and masonry as they choked on the dust and plaster filling the air.

Entering the hospital as the doctors were almost at the exit, Jet and Red’s eyes widened in horror as the sounds of the building collapsing filled their ears.

“Where’s Kobra?” Red screamed to be heard above the cacophony.  
“And Party and Ghoul?” Jet added, equally panicked and scared for their friends.

Coughing uncontrollably and eyes stinging, Harrison flung an arm backward, indicating down the corridor, still thick with dust and debris.

“Where are they?” Jet demanded, grabbing Harrison’s arms and shaking him.

Unable to speak, his throat coated with dust and plaster and struggling to breathe, Harrison pulled himself out of Jet’s grip and stumbled out of the exit into daylight.

“Where are they?” Jet repeated as Hawes, supported by Fielding, followed only moments behind.  
“Behind us,” Fielding croaked. “They were...” she turned, squinting to peer down the corridor and coughing hard. “They were right behind us.”

Jet turned a terrified glance toward Red as the two doctors followed Harrison out into the parking lot. Pulling his bandana over his nose and running to the main route to the wards, Jet tried to shield his eyes to look for any sign of movement, but in the darkened and murky corridor he could see nothing. Within moments, Red was at his side.

“We have to find them,” she spoke for both of them.  
“Cover your nose and mouth with something first,” Jet instructed.

Looking around from where she stood, unwilling to wander for fear of losing valuable seconds, Red could see nothing suitable nearby.

“We haven’t got time,” she insisted.

Jet began untying the knot on his bandana and she knew immediately that he intended to give it to her. She would put herself in danger, certainly, but not Jet.

“No,” she shook her head.

Glancing urgently around, she ran behind the reception desk. There, she located a first aid kit and, pulling the lid up and almost off in her haste, she found out a triangular bandage, usually used to make a sling for a broken arm. Ripping the packet open, she folded it quickly and wrapped it around her nose and mouth.

Racing back to Jet’s side, she nodded her readiness and the pair headed down the corridor. Jet cursed quietly as they were forced to move slowly, carefully picking their way through the rubble. They desperately wanted to go faster, but if they caused further damage and brought more of the walls down, they could be severely injured themselves or even worse in their eyes, bring more debris down on their friends. They could only pray that they would find them quickly and that when they did, they would be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that - Merry Christmas, lovely readers! :D xx


	38. Picking through the wreckage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jet, Red and Fielding look for their friends in the aftermath of the explosion. What will they find?

Jet and Red knew they were getting closer to the scene of the blast, purely from the thickness of the clouds of dust hanging in the air and even the cloth tied over their noses and mouths couldn’t prevent what seemed like a choking wall of floating debris from causing them to cough painfully as they picked their way carefully through the corridors.

“Kobra?” Red called with urgency and panic in her voice. “Party? Ghoul?”  
“Anyone!” Jet yelled, desperate to hear a voice or some sign of movement.

Hearing a sound of shifting debris, Jet’s heart leapt but almost immediately he realised the sound had come from behind them. Turning to look back down the corridor, he expected to see some loose debris toppling but was instead surprised to see Dr Fielding edging her way towards them.

“You’re coming back to help?” Jet raised his eyebrows in surprise.  
“If it hadn’t been for Party, I’d still be at BLI.”  
“You’d still have a job, a life and nice things,” Jet replied without judgement.  
“Yeah, a job that had me torturing people instead of helping them. BLI had me convinced that what we were doing was right. Party changed that, I owe him this.”

Jet smiled as he reached out a hand to help Fielding over a large pile of debris.

“He has a way of making people see things his way.”  
“He’s got a talent for speaking with passion. He could have been a politician,” Fielding nodded.  
“He’s not a good enough liar,” Jet smirked.

Whilst Better Living Industries was essentially a large corporation, one of the largest in Battery City, somehow they had adopted a quasi-governmental status. Although none of the executives were politicians, to the best of his knowledge at any rate, he knew better than most the level and quantity of lies that BLI fed to the people on a daily basis. In this tired and broken world, they had become the equivalent of politicians, or more realistically - dictators, and they lied to keep control. In fact, they lied almost exclusively; Jet couldn’t recall the last truthful piece of information he had heard from BLI. The scariest part was that the majority of people seemed to believe them. Was it all down to the drugs?

“Any sign?” Fielding asked as she joined Jet, pulling him from his reverie.  
“Not yet,” he frowned.

Almost as he spoke the words, he saw Red jumping quickly over some more debris and scrambling forward.

“Kobra!” She called excitedly.

She had seen nothing but a flash of red in the rubble, but was desperate enough to make the leap of faith. Kneeling in the wreckage, Red began lifting chunks of concrete and throwing them towards the wall, all the while hoping that she wasn’t throwing them on top of someone else. In moments, Jet and Fielding were at her side, moving debris and uncovering the slender young man in the red leather jacket, his face covered in an eerie layer of plaster dust making him appear like a fallen statue in garish clothes.

“Kobra!” Red pleaded, shaking him. “Come on! Wake up!”  
“Is he...”

Jet frowned; he didn’t want to say the words, instead he offered a hopeful glance toward Fielding. Leaning forward, the doctor placed two fingers on Kobra’s neck, feeling for a pulse. Within moments she was nodding happily.

“He’s got a strong pulse,” she confirmed, much to Jet’s relief.  
“You hear that, damn it?” Red continued to rail at Kobra. “Wake up!”  
“What? No kiss?” He answered with a dry, rasping voice, his eyes still closed, but the light crinkles around them showed he was trying hard not to laugh.  
“You’re not Sleeping Fucking Beauty!”

Red glowered; filled with mixed emotions. Ecstatic that he was alive and well, but at the same time wanting very much to slap his face for scaring her. Kobra opened his eyes and smirked.

“But I have just literally woken up,” he offered in a conciliatory tone on seeing her expression. “I didn’t mean to scare you. How’re Party and Ghoul?”  
“We haven’t found them yet,” Red’s voice grew suddenly somber and Kobra’s eyes widened at the news.

Attempting to push himself upright, Kobra fell back almost immediately, his eyes rolling back in his distress.

“Mikey!” Red suddenly cried out, biting her lip as soon as the word left her mouth.  
“You’re Mikey?” Fielding turned astonished eyes to the man lying groaning in front of her. “Gerard’s brother Mikey?”

Kobra turned a puzzled and suspicious frown toward her.

“Look, you’re hurt and you’re not going anywhere in a hurry.” She turned to Jet. “Find the others, I’ll look after him and explain.”

Jet nodded and got to his feet, helping Red up. She was reluctant to leave Kobra’s side, but went easily, aware that she was needed elsewhere. As they turned, a small pile of rubble moved, with pieces of concrete rolling to the side revealing a hand clawing at the air. At the wrist, they could see the edge of a bright blue cuff.

“Party!” Jet called, elated to find another of their friends at the very least alive.

Under the pile of chunks of wall, ceiling and twisted, almost unrecognisable equipment, Party was trying hard to stand. At first it had just been his hand making a bid for freedom, but it was soon followed by a pair of shoulders and a mess of what had once been fiery red hair, but was now so coated in dust, it could have been grey, possibly tipped with pink.

“Mikey,” he croaked, coughing immediately as dust caught in his throat.

Jet and Red were by his side in seconds, but as they uncovered his left arm, Jet gasped at the sight of his sleeve soaked with blood.

“Doctor!” He called. “Party’s bleeding.”

Having established that Kobra had no serious injuries that some water a little rest wouldn’t resolve, Fielding felt happy to move over to Party’s side immediately. Helping Jet and Red with the still disorientated Party’s jacket, each of them frowned deeply when its removal revealed no damage to Party’s arm or side. It was a few moments before the reality of the situation occurred to them.

“Ghoul!” Jet cried, alarmed.

Immediately Jet began to dig to Party’s left, throwing even the heaviest chunks of debris aside with what appeared to be minimal effort. Under a large slab, Jet could see a bloodstained mustard coloured sleeve. “He’s here,” he choked out as his digging grew ever more frantic. Red and Fielding, already at his side were pushing rubble away at pace, even Party, who wasn’t even certain who they were looking for was helping at the same frenetic speed as everyone else.

Finally, the source of the blood was uncovered - a spike of metal, from what looked like a chair leg, had pierced Ghoul’s side. Party’s eyes widened at the shock of the scene and reached forward to remove it, only to be pulled back by Jet as Fielding shouted.

“No! Leave it, it’ll be worse if you removed it,” she explained.

Party looked up, glassy-eyed, almost tearful.

“B-but... Ghoul? He... he’ll be okay, won’t he?”

All eyes fell on the red-haired man as he continued to scramble at the debris around his stricken friend.

“Party?” Jet ventured.  
“What?” He asked in reply, uncertain why everyone had stopped digging. “He... he’s not...?”

Fielding was already taking Ghoul’s pulse, and nodding.

“It’s there and surprisingly strong. We need to get him to an operating room.” She quickly looked around and spying what remained of a metal door lying in the wreckage, she pointed. “We can use that as a stretcher. Can you look after Mikey?” She asked Red, getting a quick nod in reply.  
“Mikey?” Party jerked his head to look at Fielding. “Kobra? Where is he? Is he okay?”  
“I’m fine, Party!” Kobra called as he pushed himself upright once more, but still felt too ill to do much more. “Just a bit dizzy, that’s all.”  
“I need you to help Jet with Ghoul, can you do that?” She asked Party gently.  
“Of course I can,” Party frowned at the question. “I’m not ten, you know!”  
“No,” Fielding smiled at Party’s deepening frown as both Jet and Red chuckled. “Of course.”

Fielding fetched the door as Party and Jet lifted Ghoul as gently as they were able, whilst carefully holding the spike in place so as to do no further damage. As they settled him on the door, they heard noises coming from the end of the corridor. Looking up they saw Harrison edging carefully around the corner.

“Chris!” Fielding called with relief. “Where’s the OR?”  
“OR? We have a poorly equipped, basically sanitised room that we use,” he replied. “You’re in the Zones now, Chloe.”  
“Where is it? She answered quickly.  
“Back this way,” he signalled. It’s in the other building. It should still be intact.”  
“Thank you,” she replied as the trio picked their way back through the wreckage, followed by Red supporting Kobra. “Why did you come after us?”  
“Oh, yeah,” he shrugged. “We’ve seen a Crow Patrol in the distance. They look like they might be coming here. Dr Hawes is going to talk to them.”  
“And say what?” Fielding asked, frowning with suspicion.  
“That the Killjoys came here and must have planted a bomb that went off early.”  
“He’ll know his android is destroyed,” Kobra put in. “They’ll search the place looking for us.”  
“No,” Harrison shook his head. “We’ve hidden your car, he’s going to say that three of you got away with minor injuries.”  
“They’re not going to believe that for a moment,” Kobra scoffed.  
“He’ll do his best, in the meantime, I’m here to hide you all, and myself. There’s a black car; I think it’s Korse. Chlo, I can help you with him. You look like you could use another pair of hands.”

Fielding pulled her mouth into a thin line; she hadn’t wanted to let them know how badly Ghoul was hurt, but now they knew. But, she was grateful for the offer of assistance, it increased his chances.

“Thanks, Chris,” she nodded. “Lead the way.”

*

Standing in the middle of the road, Dr Hawes tried his best to ignore the debilitating heat of the afternoon sun, but he knew that the longer he remained there, the more it would work in his favour. He watched as the car and motorbikes approached. This was not his first encounter with draculoids but it would be his first with Exterminator Korse. He had heard multiple stories about him, not least of which were from the Killjoys themselves. He was intelligent, suspicious and probing, but Dr Hawes was no simpleton; he would hold his own with him. He had to for all their sakes. As the patrol approached, he began by waving them down; it was important to begin by giving the impression that he wanted them to stop.

Inside the car, Korse turned to the draculoid driving and pointed to the figure waving frantically at them.

“Do you know that man?” He asked, suspicious that someone would actively try to flag down a BLI patrol.  
“No, sir,” the draculoid replied. “He looks like a doctor though. The hospital building has been damaged, probably by the self-destruction of the android; these are his last coordinates.”

Korse eyed the man thoughtfully, wondering what awaited them. Were the Killjoys there, waiting for them? The last report from the android had been the notice of self-destruction and that the Killjoys had been with him. Why he had chosen to do that was unclear, but Korse guessed that he had been found out much quicker than he had expected. He wondered, if they had been there, where were they now and what did this man want? Crucially, he was aware that the green porno droid being tracked was several miles ahead of them. What was going on?

“Pull in,” he ordered. “Be cautious, it may be a trap.”  
“Yes, sir,” the draculoid responded. “I’ll advise the rest of the team.”

Korse nodded sternly as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. Exiting the car and covering his gun with his hand, ready to draw at a moment’s notice, Korse was surprised when immediately the doctor approached him; he seemed furious.

“You’re after the Killjoys?” He asked almost spitting the words in distaste. “Three of them left about ten minutes ago, not before destroying my hospital though!”  
“What happened?” Korse asked, not fully accepting the doctor’s word; he could easily be a rebel collaborator.  
“First of all, they turned up. They wanted one of them checked up on, I refused and they threatened me! In my own hospital!”  
“Which one needed attention?” Korse asked.  
“I don’t know, a tall, skinny guy with a red jacket. His arm was broken, or so they thought.”  
“And was it?” Korse pressed, taking a few steps further toward the doctor; he looked haggard, tired and stressed.  
“I don’t know!” He snapped back haughtily. “I’m not wasting my resources on rebels!”  
“I’m glad to hear it,” Korse replied with a disturbing lack of accompanying emotion. “What happened to your hospital?”  
“While they were here, a female doctor turns up with another one who looks exactly like the one with the red hair. I didn’t know what was going on! There’s a huge commotion and they’re running out of the building just before the whole lot comes down! But only three of them, one must still be in there. Planted a bomb or something but it went off too early. Just because I wouldn’t help them,” he growled bitterly. “Well, it serves them right if one of them is dead!”  
“Where are they now?” Korse narrowed his eyes.  
“I told you, they jumped in their car and left. They only had minor injuries, the other red-haired guy was driving, he was okay.”  
“And the female doctor?” Korse asked.  
“I didn’t see her leave, but her car’s gone, so I guess she left too.”  
“Are any of your staff or patients hurt?” Korse tipped his head as he asked the question.  
“Staff? I can’t afford many,” Hawes replied. “I keep this place going myself. We only have resources for outpatient facilities for two days a week. We’re closed today, so there are no staff or patients, just me. I live here too.”  
“And they’ve destroyed your home too.” It was a statement rather than a question.  
“Yeah,” Hawes snarled angrily. “Rebels! Isn’t it your job to keep us safe from scum like them?”  
“BLI is making every effort, doctor,” Korse replied, somewhat taken aback as the doctor went on the offensive.  
“Well, it’s not good enough! Where were you an hour ago? When they were here, before they destroyed my hospital! Where were you when they threatened me? How am I supposed to get this hospital up and running again?” Hawes demanded.  
“BLI has a victim support department. You may take your claim to them.” Korse replied, his mind now focussing on possible routes that the escaping Killjoys may have taken. The last thing he needed was to have to report to the Director that he had lost them. “Have a better day.”

Turning, Korse quickly returned to the car and Hawes watched as the patrol moved on at speed down the long highway. He watched until they were mere dust swirls on the horizon. It was time to go back inside and check on the others; he still had no idea if anyone had survived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone!! I hope 2018 is good to you!
> 
> Best wishes  
> Sas xx


	39. We have no secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets come out and just how much has Party missed?

“Turn around.”  
“Sir?”  
“I said, turn around! Is there something wrong with your hearing?”  
“Are we returning to Battery City, sir?”  
“No,” Korse sneered, “we’re going back to the hospital.”  
“Yes, sir.”

The draculoid driving took a moment to inform the accompanying draculoids on motorbikes of the change in plan before turning the car in a wide circle to avoid hitting the bikes as they turned also. As they began driving at speed back along the long straight highway, the driver addressed the Exterminator once more.

“I’m not doubting you, sir, but I’m curious as to...”  
“You want to know why?”  
“If I may, sir.”  
“The Killjoys are still there, that’s why.”  
“How do you know, sir?” The draculoid asked, somewhat nervously.  
“A number of things,” he replied calmly, to the draculoid’s relief. “We know that the porno droid stopped for a short time at those coordinates and left an hour ago. However, the doctor said that Fielding left not more than ten minutes ago, at roughly the same time as the Killjoys. He’s lying. If Fielding didn’t leave with the porno droid, then she’s still there. We also know that the Killjoys were in the building when the android self-destructed. You saw the condition of that building. The idea that they all escaped without injury is unlikely to say the least. No, they’re still there all right but they believe we have left.”  
“We have the element of surprise?”  
“Indeed we do,” Korse’s sneer widened.

*

Party paced back and forth outside the door to the makeshift operating room. Lighting another cigarette, he took a long draw before heaving a sigh.

“What?” He turned a questioning stare at Jet, who was sitting on an old padded bench seat.

Jet was leaning forward with his hands clasped and elbows on his knees whilst looking up at the clearly distressed man.

“Party,” Jet offered a sympathetic frown. “Sit down, man.”  
“I can’t,” Party grumbled, rubbing his neck. “You know me better than that.”  
“I got some stuff to tell you,” Jet continued.  
“And you need me to sit down for that?”  
“I don’t _need_ you to, but you might want to.”  
“I don’t,” Party replied, drawing again on the cigarette as if it was giving him the strength to keep going. A few moments later, he turned a worried frown towards Jet. “Why?”  
“It’s about Kobra.”  
“What about him?” Party displayed an increasingly concerned expression.  
“He knows about Korse,” Jet replied quietly. “Well, we all do.”  
“What about Korse?” Party replied carefully.  
“That he killed your dad and...”

Party paled as Jet added the ‘and’.

“... and he’s your uncle.”

Party nodded stiffly; there wasn’t much point denying it. Finishing his cigarette, he threw it to the floor before crushing it underfoot. Jet suppressed his frown at the action, and resisted the urge to remind his friend that they were in a hospital, however dilapidated.

“How did he find out?” Party asked quietly.  
“He remembered.”  
“Damn!” Party kicked a chair in frustration and watched as it skittered noisily across the floor. “I knew it was a risk when he saw me have that nightmare.”  
“Nightmare?” Jet questioned.  
“I’ve been having nightmares about it since I was ten. When we were in Hart’s museum, I had one, waking up from whatever Candi gave me to knock me out. Kobra heard everything. It probably jarred the memory loose.”  
“Ghoul’s blaming himself, you know?”  
“Why?” Party’s brow furrowed in confusion. “There was nothing he could do about it, he was in the next cell.”  
“No, not then,” Jet shook his head. “Just before he remembered, Ghoul referred to him as ‘Snake Boy’. It seemed to be the trigger.”

Party laughed sadly and shook his head. Immediately, his happier childhood memories flooded his mind and he remembered the superhero games he would play with his brother as _Ray Gun Jones_ and _Snake Boy_. His expression turned pained as he remembered once more that they were playing one of those games when their father was murdered.

“It’s not Ghoul’s fault,” he shook his head again as he tipped another cigarette from the pack. “Smoke?” He offered the pack to Jet, who shook his head. “Besides, it’s actually my fault. I should have told him years ago, but I thought I was protecting him. I’ve always protected him, since we were kids. I let him down badly after Korse killed our dad. I couldn’t stop them torturing him until he forgot almost everything. I promised I would protect him. I think, maybe I forgot to stop.”  
“That’s a lot to carry around, Party,” Jet replied softly.  
“Yeah, but I had Ghoul to get me through it. Who’s gonna be there for Kobra except me?”  
“I will,” Red replied from the corner where the corridor crossed another.

Party rubbed his forehead as he pondered how best to phrase his reply. He wouldn’t normally censor his thoughts but he wasn’t in the mood for an argument.

“No offence, but Kobra needs someone steady in his life, not just someone passing through.”  
“I’m not going anywhere,” Red replied.

Her intention was to sound reassuring but Party heard it as an arrogant statement. Shaking his head and frowning as a small cloud of plaster dust surrounded his head like a halo, Party chuckled unpleasantly.

“Well, that’s not really up to you, is it?” He added, settling the cigarette in the corner of his mouth.  
“Hey, Party, ease up,” Jet frowned. “It’s not just your decision either!”  
“I knew it!” Party announced, taking the cigarette into his fingers once more and pointing with it towards Jet. “I knew when you were defending her in the diner. You’re banging her, aren’t you?”  
“No!” Jet cried, horrified at the idea. “Party, she’s my sister!” He added, visibly disturbed by Party’s accusation.  
“Your sister!” Party gasped.

Perhaps they had forgotten that only the android version of Party had known. Or perhaps it was simply that they had all grown so used to the knowledge that Party’s reaction was so surprising to them.

“Wow, are you off base!” Red laughed. “He’s my brother!” Tilting her head thoughtfully, she added with a cheeky smirk: “ _Your_ brother on the other hand...” she left the words hanging.  
“Scarlet!” Jet’s eyes widened at the suggestive implication.  
“What? You said he had a reputation!” She grinned. “It’s well deserved by the way.”  
“I can’t believe this!” Jet fumed. “I’m gonna kill him!”  
“Consenting adults, Ray! Back off!” Red scowled.  
“When did you even... We haven’t...” Jet stammered.  
“At Kami’s; we woke Ghoul apparently,” she chuckled.  
“Ghoul knew?” Jet’s face began to darken as another thought came to him. “Ghoul watched!”  
“Wait!” Party interrupted, his expression one of bewilderment and his hands gesturing for them to stop and explain. “Scarlet? Red’s your sister and she’s...? When the fuck did all this happen?”  
“When you were ten,” Red grinned.  
“What?” Party frowned.  
“You’re not helping, Red,” Jet snapped.  
“Okay, let me explain,” she grinned. “My birth name is Scarlet Toro, Jet is my brother, I changed my name to Red Star, Kobra and I are dating and...”  
“Don’t!” Jet warned.  
“I wasn’t!” Red laughed in reply. “And... I met Mikey originally when he was my karate tutor at BLI. You know, while you and Ghoul were taking ballet together.”

Party sagged and flopped down next to Jet on the bench seat.

“Did I miss anything, Jet?”  
“No,” he replied quietly. “No, I think that’s everything,” he added stiffly, glancing at Party and trying to gauge his reaction.  
“Do we have any secrets left, Jet?” Party asked taking a long draw on his cigarette. “Any at all?”  
“Not one,” Jet replied with a quiet laugh.  
“So, who’s gonna kill Kobra first, you or me?” Party asked Jet. “I assume it was him that told you about the ballet?” He addressed Red this time.  
“No,” she smiled back, “it was Ghoul, actually.  
“Okay,” Party nodded as he turned to Jet. “That makes it easier. You kill Kobra and I kill Ghoul. Then I guess it’s just you and me.”  
“And me,” Red added brightly.  
“I don’t suppose I could...?” Party raised an eyebrow and, pointing at Red, he smirked at Jet.  
“No,” Jet shook his head. “I think if anyone’s gonna kill her, it really ought to be me.”  
“Well, you first, at least.” Party agreed.  
“And third.” Jet nodded in return.  
“Oh, you guys!” Red grinned at their banter.

Both Party and Jet looked up at the cheerfully grinning woman in front of them. Without knowing the circumstances of their realisation, it would have been easy for Party to be suspicious of the revelation, but somehow he knew it to be genuine. There had been an air about how the pair interacted that was familiar to him; now he knew why. Placing the cigarette back in his mouth, he slapped Jet lightly on the back.

“So, a sister?”  
“Oh, yeah, that’s the other thing,” Jet beamed. “I got all my memories back.”  
“I missed a lot!” Party nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.  
“Hey!” Kobra’s voice piped in cheerily as he rounded the corner.

Party looked up sharply, offering a broad smile of relief toward Kobra. He walked with a slight limp and there were a few scratches and bruises visible, but no other obvious problems.

“How are you doing, kiddo?”  
“Doc said I have a slight sprain in my right ankle, but otherwise I’m fine. Oh, and he removed the governor from my neck.”  
“The what?” Party’s eyes widened. “Seriously, how much stuff have I missed?”  
“Hart put a device in his neck to cause pain if he defied her.” Jet explained. “Think she was afraid of him.”  
“But she didn’t with me or Ghoul. Or did she?” Party frowned, unsure if he was unaware of the implant, putting his fingers tentatively to his neck.  
“No,” Kobra shook his head. “It was the martial arts thing she was scared of. Besides, she wouldn’t hurt Ghoul. She _wanted_ Ghoul.”  
“What? _Wanted_ , wanted?” Party raised an eyebrow. “I hope he disappointed her.”  
“Very much so,” Kobra grinned.

Jet got to his feet and sneaked a conspiratorial glance at Party before offering Kobra a smile and waving for him to take his seat.

“So, I guess there’s no running or martial arts for you for a while?” He asked.  
“No, just limping around for a few days, I guess,” Kobra replied, settling himself.  
“We should probably get a watch going. Don’t you think, Jet?” Party suggested

“Good idea!” Jet grinned. “Red, why don’t you take first watch? We can bring Kobra up to speed on everything that’s been happening here.”  
“I... oh, but...” Red’s brow creased in concern as she looked at the darkly mischievous expressions on both Jet and Party’s faces.  
“Yeah, Red.” Party agreed. “I can’t, I want to wait to see how Ghoul is.”  
“And I have a few little things I need to chat to Kobra about,” Jet added.  
“I doubt there’s much going on out there, Red, just really hot,” Kobra nodded, oblivious to the earlier conversation. “You’ll be fine.” He smiled.  
“Fine,” she sighed, turning a ‘don’t you dare’ glance at Jet, only to receive a small wave and a smirk in reply.

*

“This has to be the luckiest man alive,” Fielding commented as she removed her gloves before discarding them.  
“Oh, I don’t know,” Harrison shrugged as he did the same. “His friends came out of it with barely a scratch.”  
“Well, yes, if you look at it that way. I’m just thinking of all the places that spike could have hit him, to only tear the skin and not even nick a muscle, never mind an organ. I’d say that was very lucky.”  
“Yeah,” Harrison nodded. “Could have been a lot worse.”  
“Let’s give them the good news.”  
“At least they’ve stopped yelling at each other now,” Harrison rolled his eyes. “Couldn’t they have gone somewhere else to do that?”  
“They’ve been through a lot,” Fielding defended them. “They’re just blowing off steam.”  
“I don’t care! They should do it somewhere else,” Harrison frowned.  
“Never were much of a people person, were you, Chris?” Fielding laughed.  
“I prefer straight research, none of this patient crap and definitely not their friends and families.”  
“Not the ideal job for you then, this?”  
“I’ll take what I can get.”  
“Chris, why did you leave BLI?” Fielding asked.  
“Because they were about to kill me, Chlo. I thought we’d established that already?”  
“Yes, but why were they?”  
“Do they need a reason?”  
“Yes, they do,” Fielding pressed, surprised by the cagey responses. “They might be evil, but they always have reasons for what they do.”  
“I refused to try to develop a biological weapon for them.”  
“What sort of weapon?”  
“Something that alters people’s DNA,” he shrugged, looking away as he spoke the words. “They wanted to add it to the drugs people were taking. It would make people solely reliant on BLI if it worked. They’d be sterile if they didn’t continue with the drugs.”  
“So anyone who disagreed with them would still have to take the drugs if they wanted children?” Fielding gasped.  
“And the children would be born needing the drugs. If you stop taking them, that’s the end of the line for you.”  
“That’s appalling!”  
“Yeah, well, when we refused, they couldn’t risk us telling anyone, so we were all sentenced to the fourth level of death. I got away only because I managed a hefty bribe, but they’ll probably try again, Chlo. This doesn’t go away just because we refused.”  
“Is it even possible?” Fielding asked.  
“Now, that, I don’t know. It was still at the early stages of R&D.”  
“Terrifying,” Fielding shook her head. “Let’s hope they never manage it.”  
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Anyway, let’s tell them about Ghoul before they start yelling again.”


	40. How is Ghoul?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party waits for news of Ghoul’s injuries while Red makes a frightening discovery

“So, Kobra,” Jet smiled with an air of innocence permeating his expression. Waiting for Kobra to sit on the seat he had just vacated, he continued. “Anything new?”  
“New?” 

Kobra looked up, tilting his head in suspicion. Glancing at Party, who was staring expectantly back, he began to feel uneasy.

“I hear you got yourself a girlfriend,” Party smirked, tapping his brother’s leg with the back of his hand.  
“Well, yeah,” Kobra began, looking between the two men staring at him, and wondering why he felt so uneasy. “I guess you don’t know, but it’s not new to Jet.”  
“There is one thing that’s new to him, though,” Party grinned.  
“Which is?” Kobra prompted, now beginning to grow somewhat irritated by the evasive questioning and knowing glances aimed at him.  
“You had yourself a good time at Kami’s?” Jet pressed, losing his smile and taking a step forward, crowding the younger man.

Suddenly realising what Jet was referring to but uncertain how he had found out, he asked about what he thought was the most likely source.

“Is Ghoul okay?” He looked from one to the other. “He’s woken up?”  
“Don’t be changing the subject, Kobra,” Jet frowned.  
“I’m not! I mean, I thought...”  
“You thought Ghoul had told us what you got up to at Kami’s?” Jet tipped his head as he stared down. “You want to tell me why you thought that?”  
“Well, he... Red told me he... Jet, we...”  
“Apparently, your reputation is well deserved, bro,” Party grinned, suppressing a light chuckle.

Kobra was at a loss as to how to react. Looking nervously from one man to the other, Party on one side appeared to be almost congratulating him, whilst Jet, looming over him, seemed to be ready to attack. There was only one course of action; honesty.

“Jet, it’s got nothing to do with my reputation; Red is special. At Kami’s... we’ve both been through a lot lately and...”  
“You were blowing off steam?”  
“What? No! Look, we both wanted... needed to be close... intimate. I... This isn’t just a fling or casual sex, I really care about her. I didn’t know we’d woken Ghoul, not until the next day anyway. I’m not gonna break her heart, Jet; she’s really important to me.” Kobra paused for a moment as he noticed that both his friends’ expressions had changed - no longer scowling or smirking, both were smiling and their eyes had softened into a gentle, almost dewy, gaze. “Is this real or are you trying to wind me up?”  
“A bit of both,” Jet shrugged, his smile broadening, “but now, I just think you’re adorable.”  
“My baby brother’s in love!” Party chirped, grabbing Kobra’s arm and batting his eyelashes for effect.  
“I didn’t say that,” Kobra flushed as red as his jacket.  
“You don’t have to, bro,” Party beamed. “I can see it all over you.”

Saying nothing but letting his widening smile do all the talking for him, Kobra nudged his brother in the ribs. 

“So are you,” he chuckled in response.  
“Yeah, I am,” Party nodded. “I’m glad you know, actually.”  
“Dude!” Jet’s laugh burst out. “We’ve known for years!”  
“We haven’t been dating for years,” Party objected.  
“No, you danced around each other for a very long time,” Jet grinned. “But of course, now we know why.”

Party sighed, letting out most of the air in his lungs in one continuous deep exhale; they had no secrets now. That was definitely something he would address with Ghoul as soon as he recovered sufficiently.

Even as he thought about it, the door opened and Fielding and Harrison stepped out. Looking up elated as he saw the happy expression on Fielding’s face.

“He’s okay?” Party asked, without even a moment’s hesitation.  
“He’s going to be just fine,” Fielding nodded. “We’ve moved him to the recovery room next door.”  
“Can I see him?”  
“Yes, of course. He’s still in and out of consciousness, so you might not get much sense out of him.”  
“How would he know?” Kobra interjected.

Party flashed a smile at him; not even one of Kobra’s flippant, mocking remarks was going to affect his joy at the news. As he headed towards Ghoul’s room, he looked back.

“Smack him, Jet,” he called.

*

Opening the door as quietly as he could, Party approached Ghoul’s bed, stepping lightly so as not to wake him. He sighed, relieved to see how much colour there was in his cheeks. He had fully expected to see him looking pale and ill, but instead was greeted by the sight of Ghoul apparently simply asleep. Now standing at the side of his bed, Party reached under the covers to hold his hand.

“Well, you know, if you’re going to hold something under there...” Ghoul’s voice slurred before chuckling.  
“Someone’s feeling better,” Party smiled broadly.

Ghoul opened sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes and offered a lazy smile.

“But I could feel so much better.”  
“You want me to get in?” Party grinned.  
“You want a written invitation?”  
“No, I’m good,” Party gave Ghoul’s hand a squeeze before heading to the opposite side of the bed.  
“Good? You? Never!” Ghoul laughed softly again.  
“I’m told that you covered me with your body. Saved my life,” Party commented as he rounded the bed.  
“You know I’d die for you,” Ghoul replied, without moving his head as Party walked. “That’s not just lip service.”  
“And I would for you,” Party briefly leaned over the bed to press a kiss to Ghoul’s cheek. “But, I don’t actually want either of us to do it.”  
“What do you mean?” Ghoul asked with a nervous shake to his voice and a frown creasing his brow.  
“I mean,” Party continued, “that I want to grow old with you. Like the poem.”  
“Browning,” Ghoul’s lips tugged upwards at the corners at the words. It was enough to see a faint smile, but there was sadness too.  
“Yeah, Browning. That’s us, you know.”

Slipping his boots off and draping his jacket over the arm of a nearby chair, Party lifted the covers and spooned up behind Ghoul, pulling him close with his right arm and taking in his scent in a deep, fluid breath before lightly kissing the back of his neck. Pausing for a brief moment, Party placed another kiss, then another as he headed toward the sensitive spot where his neck met the shoulder. Tracing a figure eight with his tongue, he felt Ghoul relax beneath his arm.

“I missed you,” Ghoul finally whispered. “I-I thought I’d never see you again.”  
“Mmm,” Party hummed into Ghoul’s neck, the vibrations pulling a deep breath of pleasure from the younger man. “You don’t get rid of me so easily.” He traced the figure 8 pattern again. “Infinity. That’s us. You and me - infinity. This life, the next life, every life. Forever lovers, just like the Brownings.”  
“Promise me,” Ghoul choked out the words, trying to hide the pain he felt and the tears stinging his eyes.  
“Ghoul?” Party’s eyes widened at the sound. “Are you okay? Don’t be upset, Frankie, I’m right here.”  
“Promise me,” Ghoul whispered again, barely managing to dam the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.  
“I promise, Frankie,” Party spoke with absolute sincerity. “I’ll never leave you. I promise.”  
“You better not,” Ghoul sniffed, swallowing his pain. “Remember you promised.”  
“I’ll remember,” he replied softly, stroking the younger man’s hair and nuzzling his left cheek into the crook of Ghoul’s neck. “You better not leave me either.”  
“Me? You can’t get rid of me, even if you tried. I love you, Gee.”  
“Love you too, Frankie. Now, get some rest.”  
“B-but... where are...”  
“I’m staying right here,” Party replied decisively.

Ghoul inhaled sharply with relief. His fears dispelled, he closed his eyes and, as Party continued to stoke his hair, drifted into a much needed sleep.

*

Red heard the car and motorbikes before she saw them. In fact, if she hadn’t crept to the edge of the building to peer around the corner, it was unlikely she would have seen them at all. All vehicles had come to a complete stop at the rear of the building and, as she feared, it was the two draculoids on the bikes, and Korse in his car with another draculoid driving. 

Korse appeared smug; even from this distance, she could see his gloating expression. Red had spoken to Dr Hawes on the way out to watch. In fact he had appeared quite smug himself; convinced that he had tricked Korse into believing that the Killjoys had long since left and had even destroyed his hospital in the process. But now it was quite clear that Korse had only pretended to leave and was making his way to the rear entrance of the main hospital building, which was presumably still accessible despite the dangerously and severely damaged building.

Racing back through the entrance, Red headed for the corridor where she had left Party, Kobra and Jet waiting for news on Ghoul. Red had strong sense of direction, but finding her friends was more difficult than she thought. Returning to the corridor, she found it empty. Frowning, she looked around, beginning to doubt herself. Was this the right corridor? She felt certain it was, but where was everyone? Spotting the seats where Party and Jet had been sitting, she noticed a door opposite. Nodding to herself, she tried the handle only to find it locked. Red’s shoulders dropped in disappointment and concern; perhaps this wasn’t the right corridor after all? Looking frantically around for any sign that they had even been there, she furrowed her brow in frustration as she found nothing.

What could she do? She couldn’t shout for them, Korse might hear her and the building was far too large to run around searching - especially if there was a risk of running into the Exterminator. running her hand through her hair, she decided to head back to the reception area - perhaps she could page Dr Hawes? Not realising that he had informed Korse that no staff were in the building, Red believed it to be her only option.

*

The hospital canteen was run down. Along one wall, a line of dusty serving bays with many of the now cracked food trays still lying unused and empty. At the end of the long line of cold ovens and stained tea and coffee machines stood a silent cash register. Against the opposite wall stood a stack of tables in varying stages of decay, so too a pile of broken chairs and an old coffee vending machine that had seen better days. The remaining useable furniture - a mere four tables and seven chairs - were clustered roughly in the centre of one end on the large, echoing room, near a refrigerator, and a sink. As they entered, Harrison led Kobra and Fielding to the refrigerator, but Jet hung back to speak to Hawes.

“Welcome to the canteen,” Hawes spoke grimly as he swept his arm to indicate the room.

Jet looked around astonished by how little they had in the way of equipment and supplies. The hospital was dilapidated, barely functional and now, thanks to BLI, the wards were probably damaged beyond repair.

“When was the last time you had a supply delivery?” Jet asked, apprehensive over what they reply might be.  
“Oh,” Hawes tipped his head slightly to the right as he gave it some thought. “It’s usually every three months roughly, but we expected one about two weeks ago but we didn’t hear anything.”

Jet closed his eyes. His entire body seemed to sag under the weight of a new and previously unrealised burden.

“What’s wrong, son?”  
“You should have been getting supplies every month. We just found out that Candi was keeping and selling a lot of the supplies herself. She was giving out just enough to not raise suspicion. We had no idea.”

Hawes took a deep breath and nodded. Jet seemed genuinely distressed by the revelation; it would do no good to explain that the situation was dire at the hospital. Besides, Hawes knew the Killjoys weren’t fools, Jet could see for himself.

“I take it she’s not looking after supplies any more?” Hawes asked with a sad smile.  
“She’s not doing anything any more,” Jet replied with a bitter edge to his tone that few ever heard.  
Hawes nodded again. “The hospital the way it is now,” he shrugged, “we’ll probably have to close anyway. I expect it’ll do more harm than good to keep it open like this now.”  
“We’ll sort out another hospital for you, Doc,” Jet promised. “We’re going to go back to Candi’s and retrieve the stolen supplies and any money we find. You’ll be up and running again in no time.”  
“Who are you going to get to do your supply runs now?”  
“I don’t know,” Jet shook his head. “We’ll do it ourselves if we have to.”

As their conversation drew to a close, Jet could see Kobra returning with a broad smile fixed on his lips. The sight of it could only mean one thing - Kobra had food. Jet had long since noted that women, food and killing draculoids seemed to be the only activities that could be guaranteed to bring a smile to Kobra’s face. Red was nowhere to be seen, no shots fired - that meant food. He had to admit, he was hungry and he found a smile pricking at the ends of his mouth too. Even before he knew what Kobra had, he was salivating.

As the small group drew closer, he could see that they were all holding two plates, but one was covered. Reaching one of the tables, Harrison held onto the covered plate as the remaining plates were put down, together with a handful of forks.

“Chris is going to take a plate to Party,” Fielding explained. “He hasn’t eaten for a very long time. I don’t know how he hasn’t passed out!”  
“What about Ghoul?” Jet asked with a tilt of his head.  
“Oh, no, not yet,” Fielding laughed. “Too soon after the procedure. It would only come up again!”  
“Can’t waste good food like that,” Kobra grinned.   
“That’s not going to go down well with him,” Jet chuckled, thinking about the pout on Ghoul’s face having to watch Party eat without getting any food himself. “What about Red?”  
“This is for her,” Harrison pointed to one of the plates. “I’ll find her and bring her back with me. Mine’s in the fridge, I’ll get it when I come back.”  
“Thanks,” Jet smiled. “She’s out front.”

Harrison nodded his thanks; he might not have thought to check outside - Jet had saved him a lot of time. But first he would drop off the plate for Party.


	41. Sleeping Beauties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korse and his draculoids search the hospital for the Killjoys

Dr Chris Harrison walked the length of the long corridor that led from the canteen back to the rooms functioning as an operating room and recovery room. Despite his mockery of Dr Fielding expecting a Zone hospital to have an OR, he hadn’t long escaped from BLI himself and he was fully aware of the huge discrepancy in the quality of life beyond Battery City’s walls. He only had to compare the pristine, sterile and fully equipped and stocked hospital environment he had left behind with the crumbling ruin of a hospital he was currently walking through. All along the dusty corridor, signage was either missing, broken or partially attached. Lighting was minimal to preserve bulbs for the essential rooms. It was impossible to keep even part of a place this size clean without an army of staff dedicated to doing just that. As a result, the walls and floor were caked in grime that had built over a number of years and cracked tiles and flaking paint went unrepaired. The plumbing was, in Harrison’s opinion, probably the most shocking element for a hospital. Although in Zone One, the running water could generally be used, it was not considered satisfactory for use in a hospital and every last drop first had to be boiled before use. It made every stage of treatment that much more difficult. Water was precious and had to be used sparingly.

Lost in his thoughts as he walked, Harrison almost dropped the plate as a man’s voice disturbed him from his daydream.

“Well, well, Dr Harrison.”

Harrison’s head snapped up in horror at the sound of Exterminator Korse’s voice. Stepping from an adjoining corridor, the BLI exterminator sneered as he saw the fearful expression on the doctor’s face.

“I was assured that you were dead, doctor. Now then.” He stepped forward, flanked by two draculoids, crowding the doctor and watched with satisfaction as he pressed his back against the wall. “How is it that you are not?”  
“I-I...” he stammered, terror taking his words from him.  
“Yes?” Korse pressed a hand to the doctor’s chest, pushing him firmly against the wall. The terror on the man’s face spoke volumes; Korse didn’t even need to raise his gun to scare him.  
“I bribed the guard,” Harrison finally gasped.  
“Did you, indeed?” Korse frowned. “Well, that will be the last thing that guard ever does. Where are you going with that plate?”  
“It... it’s my lunch,” he lied. “I’m taking it to my office.”  
“Where is your office?”  
“It’s down there,” he replied quietly, waving an arm in the general direction of the corridor.  
“You’re lying to me, doctor,” Korse pressed. “Why are you lying to me?”  
“I... I’m not...”  
“Where are you going with that food?” Korse spoke harshly, but kept his volume low.  
“I...” Harrison gasped, his terror increasing as Korse raised his gun and pressed it into the hollow underneath his jaw.  
“Let me put it another way,” Korse tilted his head and offered a cruel smile. “Where are the Killjoys?”  
“Will you let me live?” He asked, his resolve collapsing.  
“Of course... if you also tell me where Dr Fielding is.”  
“She’s in the canteen with Dr Hawes and two of the Killjoys.”  
“Which two?” Korse growled.  
“I don’t know their names,” Harrison replied barely seconds after Korse had posed the question.  
“Describe them.”  
“Tall, skinny kid in a red jacket and a guy with roughly shoulder-length curly hair,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation.  
“And the other two?”  
“In the recovery room.”  
“Injured?”  
“One is,” he nodded. “The short guy. The red haired one is with him.”  
“And you were taking the food to him?”

Harrison nodded; it didn’t seem worth lying now.

“Where is the girl?”  
“I was told she’s outside, on watch.”  
“Outside where?”  
“At the front entrance.”

Korse stepped backwards, nodding his satisfaction.

“You,” he addressed one of the draculoids, “find the girl.”  
“Dead or alive, sir?”  
“Alive, if possible.”  
“Sir,” the draculoid stood to attention briefly before heading toward the main entrance.  
“You,” he pointed at Harrison, “put the plate down and show me where the recovery room is.”

Shoving Harrison in front of him, Korse followed him down the corridor with the two remaining draculoids.

*

Jet checked the time and frowned, his brow knit with concern. Looking up, he noticed that he shared the same expression with Kobra and it was simply a matter of who was to speak first.

“Harrison’s taking his time, isn’t he?” Jet turned to look at the door, several yards away, in case they were returning as he spoke.  
“I was thinking the same thing,” Kobra replied. “It’s not that far.”

Jet nodded and pushed his chair back.

“I’m...” he paused to fish for the right word to describe how he felt. “...uneasy,” he finally concluded.  
“Oh, she’ll be fine,” Hawes waved a fork and shook his head. “If there was anything wrong, you’d know about it by now.”

Jet and Kobra glanced urgently at each other as the same thought occurred to them - nobody had bothered to let Red know that they had moved to the canteen. It wasn’t the largest hospital, but if something had happened, she had no way to find them. Each of the Killjoys could keep in touch with each other using the radios attached to their belts, but Red didn’t have that luxury; she was on her own.

“Come on,” Jet said, pushing his seat further back, earning a definitive nod from Kobra.  
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Hawes asked, his face displaying a sceptical expression.  
“So what?” Asked Kobra over his shoulder as the pair headed briskly toward the door to the canteen.  
“He’s got a point,” Fielding shrugged. “These guys haven’t stayed alive this long by thinking things will probably be okay.”  
“So, what do you think?” Hawes asked. “Something’s wrong? Korse is back?”  
“Korse was here? You saw him?” Fielding’s eyes widened.  
“I spoke to him,” Hawes replied, surprised by the question. “Didn’t Harrison tell you?”  
“When?”  
“When he went back to find you after the explosion.”  
“If he did, I didn’t take it in. I was too concerned about keeping Ghoul alive. What did you tell him?”  
“I told him that you and the Killjoys left ten minutes before he arrived,” Hawes replied, still quite proud of his acting ability.  
“He’s not going to believe that!” Fielding gasped.  
“I watched him go,” Hawes objected. “He was a dot on the horizon when I came back in,”  
“He’s tracking the porno droid!”  
“What porno droid?” Hawes frowned with confusion.  
“She helped me get Party out of BLI. She took the car to lead them away from us, but it was about an hour earlier. He’ll know I’m still here.”  
“Then he’ll know the Killjoys are too,” Hawes paled at the idea. “We’ve got to warn them.”

The two doctors rose almost simultaneously and ran for the door, Hawes trailing behind his much younger counterpart.

*

Red had made it back to the hospital’s reception area without incident but knew she had to keep as quiet as possible. She knew the scarecrows where in the hospital somewhere, just not exactly where. It was also possible that they had split up to cover ground more quickly and make it difficult for them all to know their numbers. The minimum number was four and probably no more than six, depending on how many were in the car, but it was always possible that they may have called for backup from another nearby patrol - there were always some riding around Zone 1.

Ducking behind the reception desk once more, she began to search for anything that might resemble a radio or public address system of any kind. A radio would be preferable, she could tune directly to Kobra or Jet’s frequencies and maintain secrecy, but even a hospital-wide announcement from a supposed member of staff was better than nothing.

As she crouched behind the desk, she heard slow footsteps. It was the sort of sound that let her know that someone was trying to minimise the noise they were making, but was unable to move completely soundless on the vinyl flooring. There was a remote possibility that Jet and Kobra, or even Party had realised something was wrong, but it was more likely the sound of a draculoid searching for them. At least, it sounded like just one person, she wasn’t certain and had no intention of taking any risks. Edging over on hands and knees to the side of the desk as the sound drew closer, she saw a draculoid entering the reception area, carefully peering around the wall before moving into view as he saw no one. Turning his head occasionally as he moved toward the entrance, the draculoid had clearly not sighted her. Briefly, her hand rested on her gun, but she changed her mind. With no idea where the remaining scarecrow members where, she could easily find herself outnumbered in a firefight with no backup. There was another option. She had heard the rubber soled boots of the draculoid padding, sometimes squeaking, on the vinyl flooring, but knew from memory that her own boots made no such sound. She had no idea why, she didn’t care why, all she knew was that it gave her a strong advantage. Listening intently for the draculoid to pass the reception desk, Red pushed herself slowly to her feet and crept out, still partially crouching.

Almost in the centre of the reception area and only a few feet from the draculoid, Red cursed inwardly as she heard more footsteps coming down the corridor and saw the man in front of her turn his head sharply. She had no idea whether the approaching footsteps were friend or foe. The draculoid’s mask, of course, giving nothing away. It could be a doctor, Killjoy, another draculoid or even Korse, but now she had no option but to announce her presence. With her gun already in her hand, she fired at the same moment the draculoid saw her. As the man fell, she spun around, pointing her gun toward the corridor in anticipation, not even able to find cover this far away from the desk, she prayed the approaching footsteps - now running - were Jet and Kobra’s.

Lowering her gun and sighing in relief as the two most important men in her life rounded the corner brandishing their own weapons, Red heaved a sigh of relief.

“Are you okay?” Jet asked, noticing the dead draculoid.

Without a word, Kobra was at her side, his hands on her arm and shoulder, looking for signs of injury. Batting his hands away, Red frowned.

“I’m fine!” She replied. “I nearly had him without firing.”  
“Or he nearly had you,” Kobra replied, shaking his head.  
“You’re doubting my skills?” Red’s eyes widened at what she perceived was an insult.  
“No, but we don’t know what skills he has,” Kobra admonished. “You know, there’s a really good reason why I carry a gun. Are you doubting _my_ skills?”  
“No,” Red shrugged. “But...”  
“We don’t want you risking your safety,” Jet offered a conciliatory smile.  
“But...”  
“Or ours, for that matter,” he added, hoping it would appeal to her protective side.  
“What do you mean?” She frowned, uncertain.  
“Let’s just say, for a moment, that he managed to overpower you. Then we come around the corner. We’re captured too. We’re not going to risk your life, are we?”

Out of sight from Red, Kobra smirked; Jet really should have been a diplomat.

“I guess,” Red shrugged. “We’re a team. I need to get used to thinking like a team person. I’ve only had to take care of myself before.”  
“Well, how about I do that?” Kobra smoothed her hair back from her face, causing Jet to roll his eyes.  
“Is now really the time, Kobra?” He asked flatly.

Kobra shrugged lightly and offered a playful smirk. This time it was Red’s turn to roll her eyes.

“What do you know?” Jet asked, adopting a serious, businesslike expression.  
“At least three dracs, well two now, and Korse. Can’t be any more than four dracs, depends how many Korse rides with.”  
“Usually just his driver,” Kobra replied. “I don’t ever remember seeing him with more than one drac in the car.”  
“Okay,” Red nodded. “Just him and two dracs then.”  
“Do you know where they are? Or Harrison for that matter, he was coming to find you,” Jet asked.  
“Never came this way,” Red shook her head.  
“Party and Ghoul!” Kobra’s eyes widened. “That’s where they are! They got Harrison and he’s taken them to them.”

Jet nodded grimly as all three raced down the long corridor back to the recovery room.

*

“Oh,” Korse smirked as his gaze fell on the sleeping Killjoys, curled up together in the bed. “How adorable. Get Poison and restrain him. I doubt we’ll get much trouble from the other one.”


	42. Dead is Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it the end for Party and Ghoul?

Party’s eyes flew open and he turned his head sharply as his right arm was pulled sharply back from where it lay, draped over Ghoul’s waist.

“Ghoul!” Party shouted, desperate to wake the younger man. Though what he expected him to do, he wasn’t certain.

Dragged from the bed, Party instinctively glanced down to his holster, cursing under his breath as he saw it still lay empty. Landing awkwardly, his arm wrenched painfully, Party cried out in pain moments before the second draculoid grabbed his left arm and pulled him to his feet. Struggling in their grip, Party swore again as he realised that days without food was compromising his ability to fight back.

“Well, Harrison,” Korse began, turning to the nervous doctor, busy trying to be invisible. “You’ve been very useful. You’ve delivered the Killjoys, their newest recruit and Dr Fielding. I could almost forgive your transgressions.”  
“A-almost?” He stammered in reply. “But... but I thought...”  
“You thought he’d let you live?” Party growled, pulling once more in the draculoids’ grip.  
“But... Exterminator Korse... sir, I did what you asked... I...”  
“You did, indeed,” Korse sneered. “So, why on earth do I need you now?”  
“N-no...” Harrison raised his hands in a pleading gesture. “I can still help,” He gabbled. “The research... I can do the research you wanted.”  
“There are many doctors in your field, Harrison. Doctors who are loyal to BLI.”  
“No, please!” Harrison begged. “I’ll do anything!”  
“Do you even realise the position you’re in?” Korse gave an unpleasant chuckle. “If I don’t kill you, your new friends will. You’ve betrayed them as you did me. So, tell me, Harrison, who would you prefer to be killed by?”

Harrison turned panicked eyes toward Party, noting the look of disgust couched on his face.

“You... you understand, don’t you?” Harrison reached out towards Party in a pleading gesture. “I had no choice. He was going to... You... I mean... you wouldn’t would you?”  
“Kill you?” Party growled bitterly. “In a heartbeat, you coward!”  
“B-but... no... I...”

Harrison looked from Party to Korse and paled significantly as he fully realised his situation. Dead at the hands of BLI or rebels was still dead. Turning quickly, Harrison bolted for the door; bursting through, almost slipping and half falling to one knee in his terror. Scrambling to his feet once more, Harrison raced down the corridor, seized by panic.

“Coward!” Party screamed after him, frustrated that when faced with death he still hadn’t found the courage to fight.  
“He won’t get far,” Korse chuckled to himself. “I wonder who will kill him,” he mused. “After all, he’s been instrumental in your capture.”  
“I’m not back at BLI yet, Korse,” Party replied with contempt.  
“No, but you will be,” Korse’s lips formed an ugly sneer at the idea. “And, of course, we will have a new and much more effective way to control you.”  
“You will never control me!” Party spat, infuriated by Korse’s gloating tone.  
“Oh, really?” Korse took two steps closer to the bed, leaning on the frame at its foot. “Not even now that we have the perfect hostage to force you to submit.”

Party’s eyes flew open in panic at the realisation as to what, or rather whom, Korse was referring.

“No!” He yelled, pulling hard against the firm grip of the draculoids in his frustration, but to no avail.  
“It’s pointless resisting, Poison, you’re far too weak.” Korse shook his head and offered a disparaging laugh. “And, don’t forget, your lover is injured and helpless.”  
“You’re half right, Korse,” a tired voice, tinged with a slight slurring, corrected him.

Korse frowned as he saw the sheets on the bed lift, Ghoul’s arm extended beneath it, with what might have been a gun in his hand pointing directly at the Exterminator. Korse’s frown deepened, his lips flattening into a thin line, as he realised that neither of the draculoids had yet drawn a weapon - each using both hands to hold Party’s arms tightly.

“You expect me to believe that you have a gun in your hand?” Korse scoffed, sounding surprisingly confident and mocking.  
“I don’t care what you believe,” Ghoul replied in a cold threatening tone. “Let Party go, or I’ll ghost you.”

Still in the draculoids grip, Party could sense their uncertainty. Not yet in restraints, he suppressed a smirk as he felt their hold loosen, only by a fraction but definitely noticeable. Readying himself to break free, Party waited for the right moment. The last thing he want to do was cause a commotion that might distract Ghoul and return the advantage to Korse.

“Oh, I don’t think so. You’re weak, Ghoul,” Korse sneered. “Physically... and mentally. You don’t have a gun and even if you did, you wouldn’t shoot. Put Poison in restraints, then do the same with _this_.”

Korse nodded toward Ghoul with an expression of utter disdain, twisting his features into a cross between a scowl and a contemptuous sneer.

“Let him go!” Ghoul yelled angrily. “I’m not making an idle threat here, Korse! Are you really prepared to die? And I mean properly die! Not what they do to you at BLI.”

Korse shook his head lightly and laughed.

“Carry out my orders!” He demanded, glaring at the draculoids. “If he had a gun under that sheet...” he paused to sneer at Ghoul, “... it wouldn’t still be under the sheet.”

Party glanced at Ghoul who looked briefly back, an expression of despair in the younger man’s eyes. Korse had been right - he had been bluffing. What hurt even more was that he was indeed also injured and helpless.

“See?” Korse laughed again as one of the draculoids fastened a set of restraints firmly around Party’s wrists. “I’ve won, Poison. By now, the girl, Jet Star and Kobra Kid are all either captured or dead and now I have you and the means to control you.”

Ghoul, now with his arm lowered, turned a wide-eyed look of disbelief toward Party at the suggestion that the others and, in particular, Kobra might be dead.

“No,” Party replied quietly. “No way are they dead. No way, Korse.”  
Korse laughed cruelly. “No? Don’t worry your pretty little head, Poison. If not already dead, they will be, very soon and I fully intend to show you their bodies before we leave. I’m sure their deaths will be as pathetic as their lives, lying in pools of their own blood. Failures in death as well as life.”

Party screamed and pulled hard as he raged against his captors’ hold on him. Almost breaking free at one point, Party’s strength only seemed to build as Korse’s laughter filled the room.

“I’ll kill you Korse!” He screamed, incandescent with rage.  
“How?” Korse gloated. “I have you in chains and you have no weapon. Either of you.”  
“He might not have one, but I do,” a voice uttered the quiet threat, an icy edge to each word. “In fact, we all do.”

Pushing the door a little further open, Kobra Kid stepped inside flanked by Red and Jet Star, all with weapons drawn and, from their expressions, the determination to use them. Kobra’s stare was harsh and bitter; barely blinking as he shoved Korse back against the wall and levelled his gun at the BLI Exterminator.

“Please, give me a reason to shoot.” Kobra spoke in a cold, measured tone, leaving no doubt in Korse’s mind of the level of bitter hatred he felt towards him. “Any reason will do. Anything at all.”

Korse stared back, tight-lipped and furious. He had felt certain that with the advantage of surprise, his man would have dispatched or even captured them by now. But here he was again, with the tables turned and at the mercy of rebels.

Entering the room fully, Jet pushed the draculoids away from Party, who quickly moved to Ghoul’s bedside. Jet stared at the two draculoids, almost as if making a decision. Moments later, he fired two blasts of his ray gun and the pair fell lifeless to the floor. Inhaling deeply, Jet knelt to find the keys to the restraints.

“You okay, Party?” Kobra called back without taking his eyes from Korse even for a second.  
“I’m fine,” Party replied as Jet approached with the key and removing the restraints quickly.  
“Have you told him, Poison?” Korse smirked, staring unblinking at Kobra. “Our little secret?”

Kobra shoved Korse, pressing him hard against the wall and forcing his gun into the soft skin of his neck.

“What secret?” Kobra growled, his voice laden with bitterness. “That you used to be our uncle? That you killed our dad? That you tortured us to try to make us forget?”  
“I succeeded with you,” Korse replied, his eyes gleaming with pride.

With a guttural scream of hatred and frustration, Kobra, pulled his arm back and swept his gun across Korse’s face, licking his lips in irritation as he failed to react.

“BLI drained every last drop of feeling out of you, didn’t they?”  
“Kobra?”

Red began gently, concerned for both his heightened emotions and his safety. Yes, the young Killjoy was more than capable of handling himself, but Korse was... Well he was something of an unknown quantity.

“Stay back,” Kobra instructed protectively.  
“Kobra,” Jet stepped forward. “I want to put these restraints on him.”  
“With pleasure!” Kobra responded cheerfully.

Turning the Exterminator quickly and pressing his face against the wall, Kobra pressed harder as Korse tried to resist Jet pulling his hands behind him. Allowing his left hand to be taken easily, he reached into his coat with surprising speed, his fingers closing on another gun. Between them, Jet and Kobra were ready for the move and the pair body slammed Korse fully against the wall, trapping his arm painfully.

“You’ve got two choices,” Kobra growled quietly as Korse struggled against them. “You can let go of the gun and move your hand out slowly, or I kill you. Which is it, Korse?”  
“You’d kill your only chance at family?” Korse’s voice sounded muffled and desperate.  
“You are not family!” Kobra hissed in his ear.  
“But I do know the whereabouts of your mother.”  
“M-my...” Kobra stammered, his grip loosening just enough for Korse to gain a partial advantage.

Korse, surprising everyone with his strength, pushed back away from the wall, drawing his second gun as he did so, aiming it directly at Red.

“Well, now,” Korse’s lips pricked up at the corners as he heard Ghoul gasp in surprise and he felt the mood in the room change from one of triumph for the Killjoys to one of nervous dismay.  
“You hurt her, you won’t live, Korse!” Jet snapped. “Drop your gun.”  
“This has been quite the turnaround, hasn’t it?” Korse chuckled. “Drop your weapon and come here,” he gestured with his finger toward Red.

It was as if the occupants of the whole room collectively held their breath as Red moved slowly forward, a terrified expression on her face. All eyes were on her as she lowered herself to the floor to place her gun on the ground, then walked toward the Exterminator.

“Red,” Jet shook his head. “No...”  
“She’s your sister, I know, which is why you won’t do anything to risk her life,” Korse gloated, certain, not just of his escape, but of his ultimate defeat over the Killjoys.  
“She’s just a little girl,” Party added. “Korse!”  
“The ideal hostage,” Korse smiled cruelly as he turned his eyes towards Party briefly.

It was enough. Red spun, aiming high and landed a well-aimed boot hard into Korse’s chest, driving him backwards until he slammed back against the wall. Dazed as his head impacted against the already cracked plaster, he created a cloud of dust as pieces broke away. Racing forward, Kobra and Jet seized Korse, pulling the gun from his hand while his senses reeled from the blow. Spun around, he found himself pressed face-first against the wall once more and his hands pulled behind him, the restraints closed around his wrists before he had even gathered his wits. Turned again, so that his back was to the wall, Kobra and Jet let him go, only to watch him sink to the floor, still stunned and disoriented. Rolling the triangular bandage that she had used as a makeshift bandana after the explosion, Red crouched to tie his ankles together.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” she beamed at the Exterminator as she fastened a firm knot.  
“You realise that you just signed your own death warrant?” Korse replied, still groggy from the blow to his head.  
“Well,” she dragged out the word, “I wouldn’t be a Killjoy if you didn’t want to kill me, would I?”

Jet reached down to help her up, before scowling deeply at Korse.

“We see an extermination poster with her name or face on it, it’s you that’ll die, Korse,” he snapped angrily.  
“It’s good to learn your weaknesses, Star,” he replied with an infuriating smirk. “Now I know what will hurt you all, don’t think I won’t use it against you.”

Jet stood upright, and took in a long deep breath and chewing on his lip as he considered Korse’s words. Turning towards Party, Jet shrugged, allowing his arms to rise out to the side indicating his confusion.

“Party, why are we letting him live?” He asked in a partly confused, partly resigned tone.  
“You know why,” Party replied, drawing his lips into a thin line.  
“It just doesn’t seem worth it,” Jet responded with a shake of his head.

Korse stared up at Party, his brow furrowed. What was the reason? Was it the family connection? Surely they had only just learned about that and the exchange had suggested a long held decision. About to speak, Korse’s expression changed to one of frustration as Dr Fielding appeared at the door.

“Oh!” She cried in surprise, before breaking into laughter. “We were coming to warn you, but I see you’ve already dealt with the situation.”

Fielding glanced down at the bound Exterminator and found herself laughing again.

“Oh, dear, Korse, this must be very embarrassing for you,” she added as her chuckles died to a manageable level.

Party smiled at Fielding’s delight at his predicament. She had risked everything, lost everything to help the Killjoy escape BLI. Now, her comfortable life was over, he was relieved she could still find something to laugh about.

“I promise you, doctor, next time we see each other, the shoe will be very much on the other foot,” Korse threatened quietly.  
“Oh! Shoe! Yes, he keeps a knife in his boot and has an extra gun in his coat. Did you find them?”

Jet raised an eyebrow; it seemed unlikely that he could reach the knife, let alone wield it, but it was good to know. Dropping onto one knee, Jet fished the hidden dagger from inside Korse’s right boot.

“Nice knife,” he nodded before sheathing it in his belt.  
“One day, Jet Star,” Korse growled. “I will remove your eyes with that knife.”  
“Yeah?” Jet offered a scornful glance in reply. “Well, today’s not that day.”

Party stepped forward to address Fielding, he knew they would only have a limited amount of time before Korse’s prolonged absence would trigger a patrol to investigate.

“We need to get out of here,” he said. “Is Ghoul fit enough to move?”  
“I take it the answer you need is yes?” Fielding replied.  
“Yeah, pretty much,” Party shrugged.  
“Okay, I’ll grab a few supplies for you. It’s not as if we can stay here.”

Party pulled out the drawing from his back pocket and grabbed the pencil from an old chart hanging from the bed. Writing a quick address on the reverse, he handed it to her.

“Head there with Dr Hawes, we’ll find you in a couple of days. We can help you.”  
“What with?” Fielding raised her eyebrows, wondering what this group of starving group of rebels could do for them.  
“Trust me,” Party replied with a smile, taking her hand gratefully into his. “Trust me.”


	43. What does Korse have up his frilly sleeve?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korse seems a little too cocky for someone in his position. Does he know something we don't. Meanwhile in Battery City, other plans are being made.

Korse looked up, deliberately catching Party’s eye and staring long enough for Party to be drawn. In at least one way they were similar, each of them liked to goad the other. It had almost become an aspect of their unusual and somewhat forced relationship – uncle and nephew, exterminator and rebel. Both had a grudging sort of respect for the other’s intellect but it could equally have been apprehension or even fear. Whatever the reason, neither took the other for a fool or underestimated their abilities. Right now, it seemed that Party had the upper hand, but he could never be certain.

“You may think you’ve won, Poison, but…” Korse began, only to pause as Party yelled at him, surprising everyone and raising a few eyebrows.  
“Shut up!” 

Party took a deep, noisy breath, letting it out slowly as he forcefully calmed himself. Walking over to stand over the BLI Exterminator, Party stared down with a curious combination of feelings and emotions all jostling for position on his face, including animosity, disbelief, tiredness and disgust.

“You think this is winning?”  
“No, you aren’t winning, you just think you are,” Korse replied, his own expression cold and unyielding.  
“No, Korse, we don’t think that this is winning. This is surviving. This is us making it until tomorrow, so we can help people and keep running and fighting. I don’t expect you to understand the idea of helping, though. It must be something of an alien concept to you.”

Party’s mouth formed a deep frown as Korse shook his head and chuckled.

“For someone who’s tied up and without protection, you’re pretty cocky,” Party noted, raising an eyebrow.  
“Don’t imagine for a moment that I’m without protection, or that you’ll leave this hospital,” Korse replied, his tone cutting and superior. “Any of you.”  
“If you’re referring to the other draculoid you came with,” Red cut in, “forget it, he’s dead.”  
“Do you honestly believe that I arrived with only three draculoids without sending for back up? No, I’m referring to the three squads that will have this hospital surrounded by now. You aren’t leaving here, Poison. None of you are leaving.”

Korse offered them a smug, gloating smile as he glanced around a sea of unnerved and concerned faces.

“Do you have any external security cameras?” Party asked, turning a worried expression to Hawes.  
“No, I’m afraid not,” Hawes replied, frowning. “We did have. Most were broken in the Helium Wars, and the rest have all fallen into disrepair over the years since.”

Party frowned and looked around the room at the other Killjoys looking for inspiration. It was Kobra who spoke first.

“Where’s our car?” He asked.   
“It’s in the underground parking lot,” Hawes replied. “It used to just be for staff, but now anyone can use it. We don’t get many cars here and it keeps them out of the sandstorms and acid rain.”  
“So, underground.” Kobra tipped his head as he considered the words. “Can we get to it without going outside?”  
“Yes,” Hawes nodded, realising with a smile where Kobra was leading. “You’ll be able to get to your car, but you’ll have to come into the open to get out.”  
“And it has to be all of us though, doc,” Jet added. “If you stay, they’ll kill you just for helping us. Do you have a car too?”  
“I do,” Hawes shrugged, “but it’s not nearly as powerful as yours.”  
“Don’t worry,” Jet nodded, “we’ll lead them away. You can leave when it’s clear.”  
“You haven’t been listening have you?” Korse piped up in a condescending tone.   
“To you?” Jet scowled. “Yeah, we heard you.”  
“No,” he chuckled softly again. “Not to me.”

Jet frowned; if not him then, he could only mean one thing.

“They’re not just surrounding the hospital, they’re inside!”  
“And if not already, they’ll have you cut off from your car in no time. You are all trapped.”  
“Yeah?” Kobra snapped, furious with their newfound situation. “Well, so are you!”  
“Gag him!” Party instructed, grimacing at the news. “I don’t want him shouting and giving away our position.”  
“Too late, Poison,” Korse smirked. “I’m always one step ahead of you. Surely you know that by now?”  
“You’re wired?” Party exhaled deeply and shook his head, angry with himself for not realising sooner. “And you have a tracer!”  
“My men always know where I am.” Korse confirmed, flatly. “And by extention, where you are.”  
“Yeah, well, not for long,” Kobra growled, tearing open Korse’s coat and searching without care for the two devices.  
“Gently, Mikey,” Korse admonished with a light chuckle. “I am your uncle, after all.”

Kobra’s eyes glazed with fury at the words. He felt sick to the pit of his stomach that this man, this evil man, was related to him so closely. But more than that, he had killed his father and tortured him as a small boy to try to force him to forget. For many years, most of his life so far, it had been successful, but it had all come back to him in a rush of cruel memories. If he could have hated him more, he would have. 

Lifting his arm, Kobra’s expression darkened to one of sheer hatred and contempt. As he looked down, Korse’s own expression was mocking and without shame, only serving to anger him further. Bringing the side of his hand down sharply on the side of Korse’s neck, he nodded with satisfaction as Korse crumpled before him. Now half lying, half sitting and unconscious, the BLI exterminator was in no position to offer any further comments or taunts. Pushing himself to his feet once more, Kobra shook his head in disgust then, after a moment’s hesitation, accepted Party’s extended arm as he pulled his brother into a much-needed hug.

Red listened intently as the room fell into relative silence. There was very little to hear beyond the room, but every now and then, she thought she heard an occasional sound, which might have been the shuffle of boots on the vinyl floor. Turning to face Jet, she noticed that behind him, Fielding and Hawes were attending to Ghoul, one changing the bag of IV fluid hanging from the drip stand and the other administering an injection.

“I’m taking a look,” Red whispered to Jet before creeping silently to the door.  
“Be careful,” Jet whispered in return.

Red raised her eyebrows and offered a questioning look that said: ‘Really?’. No actual words needed to be spoken, and she shook her head as Jet merely offered a light shrug and a smile in return.

Approaching the door slowly and quietly, Red opened it to peer out only to pull back immediately. As she did a bolt of laser fire impacted with a loud sizzle and a shower of sparks on the door frame. In less than a second, Jet was pulling her away from the door, slamming it shut and had started building a barricade to hold them back. The blast had startled the brothers, unaware of Red’s attempt to look outside the room and had spun out of their hug, ready to fight. Even Ghoul had been too surprised by the sound of the laser impact to object with more than a yelp of pain as Hawes jabbed the syringe in hard, also alarmed by the sudden noise.

“Well, he wasn’t lying,” Red commented in a wry tone, as she helped Jet move a some of the heavier equipment not in use in front of the door.  
“How about the bed?” Ghoul asked. “It must be pretty heavy.”  
“You need it,” Party replied with a sympathetic frown, joining the effort to barricade the door.  
“If we’re gonna have to fight our way out of here, I gotta get up sooner or later,” Ghoul objected, sitting up and reaching for the bedsheets to pull them aside.

Shaking her head in dismay, Fielding Moved quickly to Ghoul’s side and found that pressing him back down to lie in the bed with nothing more than a hand on his chest was far too easy. He had even tried to fight her, but his strength was gone and with it, his ability to resist her. 

“You’re in no fit state to fight,” Fielding replied, shaking her head. “Or even run for that matter.”

As much as he hated to admit it, he was in no position to argue. Taking pains to hide it, he had actually been somewhat relieved that Fielding had pushed him back down onto the bed to rest as the mere action of sitting upright had robbed him of what little strength he had and he was now exhausted and drained, lying dizzy and breathing quite heavily.

“Well, we’re not leaving him,” Party countered, having observed Ghoul’s normally olive skin turning a deathly pale hue. Now turning to face the two doctors, he added: “So, we need another plan... but using only what’s in this room.”

Looking around, Party’s shoulders sagged; there were no weapons other than the three guns that Kobra, Jet and Red had brought in, and nothing that even seemed likely that they could use. Severely outnumbered, outgunned and pinned down inside the small room, they truly were trapped.

*

Evelyn Hart stared bleakly at the empty exhibition she had spent so much time, effort and money putting together. Everything was still intact, as if it were simply waiting to be completed. She allowed her eyes to roam slowly over each of the four cells, her eyes returning to one particular cell.

“You know,” Sorby spoke gently, quietly entering the room and taking his place beside her. “If you want, I can get him for you again.”

Evelyn turned a somewhat dazed expression toward her personal assistant. At first she appeared surprised that he would even suggest it, but as the thought slowly sank in, a smile began to form on her face. Pushing her long hair back over her shoulder, she allowed her smile to broaden.

“Him?” she asked, tilting her head with amusement. “Not them?”

Sorby lowered his head and allowed a soft chuckle to escape his lips. He knew that she had very much wanted to showcase this particular exhibition, but now after everything that had happened, he simply wasn’t sure if she wanted to begin again Ghoul, on the other hand, he knew her feelings toward him. He knew, because they matched his own. The Killjoy was small but toned, handsome and pretty at the same time, with perfect cupid’s-bow lips and soft black hair. No one could blame either of them for wanting him. Sorby didn’t feel jealous of Evelyn however; yes, he could certainly see the attraction in Ghoul, but the slightly older, fiery-red haired Killjoy was also extraordinary. 

“I know your feelings toward Fun Ghoul,” he nodded, “and I am more than happy to help you make him yours again. This time he won’t escape, I promise you that.”

Evelyn turned and taking Sorby by the elbow, led him out to the next exhibition room. It was almost as if she couldn’t bear to be there. It had almost been a triumph for her, but instead, the room held only unpleasant memories.

“Miles?” Evelyn began tentatively. “What are your feelings toward him?”

Sorby smiled ruefully. He had never discussed his preferences with his employer, but they had been together such a long time that there was knowledge between them that hadn’t even needed to be spoken. But now, as she asked the awkward question, Sorby felt embarrassed to have been, at least to her, so transparent.

“Not so well hidden as I believed,” he replied with genuine regret lacing his words.

Evelyn smiled; the ends of her lips turning up as she gazed with a soft and sympathetic expression.

“So,” Evelyn began. “What do…”  
“Fun Ghoul is yours, ma’am,” Sorby returned firmly. “Yes, I find him very attractive. How could I not? But he is not the only one to have caught my eye.”  
“One of the others?” she queried, stepping closer to ask the question.

Sorby took a sudden deep breath as he remembered the three young men they had managed to capture. Each of them were devastatingly handsome. Even the brief glance he had managed of the fourth had given him pause. Yes, all four Killjoys were anyone’s dream, but there was one in particular that he had in mind.

“Party Poison, ma’am. The red-head. He is…” Sorby paused to find the words.  
“Spectacular?” Evelyn suggested.

Sorby nodded; that was certainly the right word.

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled lustfully. “Spectacular indeed.”  
“Then, he will be yours.”  
“Miss Hart?” 

Sorby gasped at the words. She was a generous employer and he had amassed a considerable fortune of his own as her aide, but this was something different. This was beyond money or even material possessions. The chance to own Party Poison was almost overwhelming to him and made him all the more eager to return the four to their cells.

“I will find them and bring them here,” he nodded, almost dizzy with the idea. “You will have your exhibition and Fun Ghoul.”

Sorby took another deep breath, barely able to believe Evelyn’s next words.

“And you shall have Party Poison.”

Offering Sorby a smile, Evelyn knew that some, if not all, of his loyalty was bought. But this latest bonus offering was greater than money, much more than a gift. She knew Sorby would do everything he could to earn her favour with this latest promise. Fun Ghoul was as good as hers once more and this time, she would not underestimate them. No, this time, they would not escape.


	44. Ghoul’s past emerges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little of Ghoul’s backstory and some good news, at last!

“Found them!” Kobra announced triumphantly, as he crushed the microphone and tracking device underfoot. “They can’t hear us now.”  
“Kinda late though, isn’t it?” Red commented. “They’ve got us pinned down in here.”

Kobra turned a deflated expression toward the young woman who immediately regretted her words.

“Yeah, but we’ll find a way out of this,” his eyes made an automatic glance over to Party as if he were expecting a brilliant plan to form any moment. “We will,” he insisted, seeing Red’s uncertain expression. “And they won’t hear our plan,” he added, his voice quieter and unsure.

Staring at the floor, Kobra grew concerned; their predicament was dire. Trapped in one room of the hospital, surrounded by three draculoid squads with no plan, Ghoul injured and limited firepower. He almost gasped as Red pulled him suddenly into her arms; uncertain if she needed comfort or she was offering. Closing his arms around her and pulling her close in an almost smothering embrace, Kobra didn’t even notice the look of concern on Jet’s face.

Turning to look around the room, Jet saw only troubled expressions and the weight of sheer exhaustion on both Party and Ghoul’s faces. His eyes caught sight of the door to the adjoining door. Crossing the floor to stand next to Dr Hawes, he pointed in the direction of the closed door.

“Do we need to worry about them coming in that way?” He asked with concern.  
“No,” Hawes shook his head. “I doubt it. The outer door is locked and they won’t know that this room adjoins it.”

Jet nodded. He had no particular plan of action in mind, but he felt drawn to the other room. Perhaps it was purely that he knew that nothing in the room they were in could help them, perhaps it was simply curiosity or desperation, but he headed towards the closed door to the operating room and headed through.

Party frowned; his brow deeply furrowed and his eyes narrowed as he looked around the room slowly. His gaze fell on the two draculoids that had previously held him. Pointing at them, his finger rocked up and down as he considered something.

“What’s up, Party?” Fielding asked, moving closer as she noticed his obvious concern and puzzlement.  
“Where are their guns?” He asked with a confused edge to his voice. “And Korse’s for that matter.”  
“Oh,” Red replied, pulling back from Kobra’s comforting embrace. “I picked them up. Four in all. And Jet has Korse’s knife.”  
“So there are enough guns for all of us?” Party nodded thoughtfully.  
“Yeah, but against three whole squads and Ghoul’s pretty much...”

Kobra stopped short suddenly, blushing as Ghoul stared open-mouthed at where he knew the sentence was heading.

“Go, on,” Ghoul pressed, his voice crushed under the weight of his indignity. “Go on, say it,” he grumbled, “Ghoul’s pretty much useless.”  
“I didn’t...” Kobra began in his defence but his tone betraying the guilt he felt.  
“Yeah, but you did, didn’t you!” Ghoul pouted unhappily.  
“Stop it!” Red insisted, placing a hand on Kobra’s arm and pointing accusingly at Ghoul.  
“Don’t tell me, tell him,” Ghoul grumbled. “That is what he was...”  
“Stop it!” She hissed once more. “Ghoul, I’m sorry to break this to you, but right now, yeah, you are pretty much useless and Kobra didn’t mean anything but just that. Don’t get angry with him for being right, just because you don’t like it.”

Ghoul stared, open mouthed at the blunt statement; even Kobra’s eyes widened at the words.

“I’m not useless,” Ghoul muttered, lowering his eyes and staring bleakly at the bed sheets wishing he could simply sink beneath them and disappear.  
“Hey,” Party began softly, walking to his bedside and cupping Ghoul’s cheek and turning his head gently. “Baby, look at me.”

Ghoul tried to look away, but was distressed to find he was weaker even than the dangerously starved Party. Either that, or the red-head had found strength in determination.

“No, you’re not useless, babe. You’re injured. It’s not the same.”  
“But... b-but she...”

Party climbed onto the bed and pulled him close. There were no sounds emerging, but Red could see Ghoul’s shoulders shaking and that he had buried his face in Party’s neck as the older man stroked his hair and whispered comforting words and sounds as he held him.

Red turned distressed eyes toward Kobra; it was obvious to the young Killjoy that she knew she had said something to upset him, but had no idea what or how. Draping an arm around her shoulder, Kobra guided her gently to the opposite corner of the room.

“What did I do?” She whispered, distraught to have caused the usually joyful and lively young man such distress. “I didn’t mean to upset him,” she added, looking back towards the bed, desperate to see some sign that he was playing with her. “Mikey, what did I do?”  
“It’s not your fault,” Kobra replied, cupping both her cheeks and staring into her eyes with both pity and affection. “You couldn’t have known. If anything it was my fault, because I almost said it. I put the words into your mouth.”  
“He’s upset that I said he was useless?” Red shook her head lightly, still confused; it seemed a harmless enough statement given his current situation.

Kobra lowered his eyes and sighed. It wasn’t that simple; nothing was ever that simple.

“You know about Party and my...” he paused, at first unsure how to phrase it. “Our family situation.”

Red glanced at Korse before returning her eyes to Kobra and nodding silently, willing him to continue.

“When we were in BLI, you know that Ghoul was Party’s best friend?”  
“Yeah,” Red nodded.  
“And you know that BLI orphans are housed in group accommodations.”

Red nodded again. She knew that they had all lost family and that most had been taken in by BLI. Not for altruistic reasons, but to be indoctrinated. To be absorbed into the BLI machine that churned out loyal drones. Of all of them, she believed that only Jet had evaded that particularly unpleasant experience.

“Well,” Kobra continued, “what you don’t know is that when Ghoul was young, he was really prone to illness. Because of that, instead of the group housing, he was allocated a guardian. He was supposed to look after him, make sure he took his medication, keep him safe and healthy.”  
“He didn’t?” Red asked quietly, certain of the answer.  
“No,” Kobra shook his head sadly. “Far from it.”  
“What did he do?” Red asked barely above a whisper.  
“Beat him, starved him, sold his meds to fund his own addictions. Basically terrorised him, all the while telling him he was a useless, worthless runt, not fit to be kept alive. If he was going to live, he’d have to manage it himself.”  
“But... but he did,” Red gasped, amazed he got through such terrible treatment.  
“He kept running away, but BLI would always return him to that guy and he’d suffer all the more.”  
“Why?” Red asked, both angry and distraught. “Why didn’t he just let him leave?”  
“Frankie was a ward of BLI. The guy was being paid to take care of him, and he was paid well. He wasn’t giving that up, not for Frankie’s benefit.”  
“But... what? He got away somehow?”

Kobra shrugged and shook his head.

“It took a long time. Even we didn’t know what was going on for a long time. I guess he was too ashamed to tell us.”  
“Ashamed?” Red’s eyes widened. “Why should he be ashamed? It wasn’t his fault.”  
“Oh, that guy really did a number on him.” Kobra growled, his eyes darkening at the memory. “Frankie’s a loyal, sweet soul under all that bravado and he wanted to be a good boy. He desperately wanted his guardian to love him. Every rejection and beating just made him want to try harder. He blamed himself and his guardian blamed him too.”  
“That’s disgusting!” Red growled angrily, feeling suddenly protective over him.  
“Yeah,” Kobra nodded. “It wasn’t until one day, Gee saw the bruises and welts all over his back.”  
“What did he do?”  
“Do? He flipped!” Kobra replied, now struggling to keep his temper in check as he recounted the terrible tale. “Wanted to go straight down there and give the man a thrashing of his own.”  
“Good!” Red nodded decisively. “Then what happened?”  
“That didn’t happen,” Kobra sighed. “Frankie freaked out. Made him promise not to do anything.”  
“Why?” Red gasped, surprised by the words.  
“Can you just imagine the beating he’d get in response to that?” Kobra tipped his head meaningfully, causing Red to lower her eyes and nod sadly.  
“So, what did happen?”  
“Somehow,” Kobra drew the word out meaningfully, “the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit heard that he was selling drugs to rebels.”  
“You? Party?”  
“Might have been,” Kobra shrugged.  
“Was he?”  
“Might have been,” he repeated, a darkness once again moving across his eyes. “Needless to say, he was arrested.”  
“And Ghoul?”  
“Somehow managed to carry on without being allocated another guardian. He was too young to fend for himself, but he got around it somehow.”  
“You don’t know how?” Red asked, sneaking a quick glance over to Ghoul, glad to see he was now sitting talking with Party. He still seemed pale, but it was difficult to know how much of that was from his painful flashback or from his post-operation exertions.  
“Well, I have my suspicions,” Kobra smirked, his eyes glistening with mischief.  
“What?” Red grinned back, poking him in the chest to continue.  
“Well, you know he invented the Vend-A-Hack?” Kobra began in a conspiratorial tone.  
“Yeah?” Red replied, with a small chuckle and more than an inkling of where the conversation was heading.  
“Well, that was nothing for him,” Kobra beamed. “Electronics, computers? Ghoul’s your man.”  
“He hacked the BLI computer? Set up his own Guardian record?”  
“That’s my theory,” Kobra winked. “Had his own apartment and got paid to look after himself.”  
“Definitely not useless!” Red nodded, impressed at his ingenuity. “So, what do I do? How can I make it up to him?”

Kobra smiled, his eyes resting on hers, his arm gently stroking her shoulder. He couldn’t help but reflect on how she was so caring, so lovely - how had he been so lucky?

“Just... just be yourself,” he replied before placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “That’s all anyone needs.”  
“Oh, I’m really starting to see why he calls you the _snake charmer_.”  
“What? I’m serious!” Kobra gasped pulling back in surprise.  
“So am I,” Red returned the kiss. “I think you’re very charming too.”  
“Er... in a good way?”  
“Is there a bad way?” She smiled.  
“Only that one,” Party suddenly appeared beside them, jerking a thumb at Korse, still slumped on the floor. “Ghoul wants to apologise to you. I don’t know why, but he does.”

Kobra’s eyes widened at the seemingly harsh and accusatory statement.

“Hey!” He called as Party turned away, grabbing his arm before he could walk back. “It wasn’t her fault.”

Party looked back, first at Kobra, then at Red and it was immediately obvious to both of them that Party was either confused or angry. Red remained silent; it hadn’t been intentional, but Ghoul had been upset and she understood why Party might blame her. He was desperately hungry, tired, weak and worried - anyone in his condition might jump to conclusions.

“I know,” Party finally replied, glancing at his arm as Kobra released him. “We saw you filling her in and how upset she looked. Ghoul wants to say he’s sorry for upsetting her. Like I said, I don’t know why, it’s only going to upset him more.”  
“Oh,” Kobra frowned and offered a light shrug. “Sorry, bro, I thought...”  
“I know,” Party replied, pulling his brother into a brief hug as his voice tapered off. “We’re all a bit fried.”

Stepping back from the hug, Party turned to Red, only to find her gone. Turning around, they both saw she was already at Ghoul’s bedside.

“You’re wonderful, you know that?” Red began before Ghoul had a chance to speak.  
“I need to...”  
“What would we do without you?” she interrupted.  
“Red, I...” Ghoul began again, his throat almost closing as the apology he wanted to give almost brought the tears back to his eyes.  
“Sweet Ghoul, you don’t have to apologise,” she smiled kindly, smoothing his hair. “What did I tell you at Kami’s?”  
“That you didn’t mean to wake me?” Ghoul replied finally finding something of his playfulness.

Red’s cheeks flushed at the reminder that her and Kobra’s intimacy had not only been enough to wake Ghoul from his sleep but that he had made mental notes on Kobra’s technique.

“Not that!” She pouted, punching him lightly in the shoulder.  
“I know,” Ghoul nodded lightly. “Come here, sweet lady, give a guy a hug.”

Jet returned from the operating room with Doctor Hawes. Even if he hadn’t already been smiling, the sight of Red and Ghoul comforting each other would have been enough to draw smile to his tired face. As he moved to the centre of the room, something about his demeanour drew everyone’s attention. His smile immediately broadened.

“I think we’ve worked out how to get out of here,” he announced.


	45. Jet’s Escape Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Jet’s plan really work? Read on...

Somehow, without even revealing his plan, Jet noticed the atmosphere in the room lift. All eyes turned expectantly towards him and Dr Hawes standing just behind him, and both Party and Red had even managed to summon slight smiles. It wasn’t a surprise to him. Red was probably simply proud of him and as for the others, there was an assumption in the small group, a long held assumption, that when an idea was needed - really needed - then they would turn to Jet. They all had their strengths and weaknesses. Party was a born leader, bold and sassy but whilst careful, he could often be reckless with his own safety. Ghoul was deeply loyal and caring, but stubborn and prone to emotional outbursts and exaggeration. Kobra was determined and fiercely protective but a self-confessed hothead who, at times, could be a little childish.

Jet was always the man with the plan. Whilst all were brave, intelligent and more than capable of dreaming up inventive ideas, Jet was the one who all eyes turned to in a crisis. Able to keep a cool, dispassionate head Jet was a lateral and imaginative thinker. Not as naturally outgoing as the others, he liked his own space. It had been part of the reason why, when they all first met up - introduced by Dr Death Defying - he took some time to settle into the group. The other three had known each other for years and were either family or as good as; it had made him feel as if he were an outsider intruding. Not that anyone had treated him that way, it was just in his nature. Generally cheerful, Jet would do anything for his friends and was someone who you wanted on your side. If crossed, Jet could be ruthless, but despite this was also the one of the four that was least comfortable with killing.

“What have you got?” Party’s asked as he slipped his boots back on before reaching for his jacket.

His eyes brightened at the news that Jet had a plan to escape. Whatever it was, it was bound to be better than trying to gun down three draculoid squads with, not only limited firepower, but also limited manpower. Yes, there were seven of them in all, but neither of the doctors were used to weapons, let alone firing them and Ghoul was injured and struggling even to sit up.

“Well,” he began, only to stop immediately as he caught sight of Korse. “Have you dealt with his wire?” He asked looking at the sea of faces staring at him.  
“Yeah,” Kobra replied with a smirk. “Fire away.”  
“You’re sure he only had one?” Jet asked with a cautious frown.

Kobra offered an expression that was both thoughtful and uncertain.

“I can’t be one hundred percent,” he replied with a shrug.

Jet nodded his understanding; the success of the plan relied upon absolute secrecy. Grabbing the pencil from Ghoul’s chart he scribbled a quick line that read:

_Say you’re pretty sure, you checked everywhere. I’ll announce a fake plan and write the real one down._

Reading quickly, Kobra nodded.

“No, strike that,” Kobra began again. “I checked everywhere and everything. There was definitely only one. There’s only one place I didn’t check and if it’s up there... well it would explain a lot!”

Jet chuckled lightly at Kobra’s enthusiastic and highly personalised response. He continued to laugh at Red’s response too.

“Gross!” She scolded, reaching up to cuff the back of his head with a cupped hand.  
“Okay,” Jet continued. “I guess we’re clear. We have one ace up our sleeves and that’s Korse. If they had no interest in getting him out alive they would have stormed in by now.”  
“Agreed,” Party replied, intrigued as he watched Jet writing furiously as he spoke between sentences. “But we can’t use him as a shield, not for all of us.”  
“We don’t have to,” Jet replied. “Only one of us has to. For instance, I go out using him as a shield, forcing all draculoids to either leave or be shot as I go. I can leave a safe corridor behind me for you all to escape and get to the car. We all have guns, so any stragglers that think they can trick us will get a nasty surprise.”  
“Sounds dangerous to me,” Party frowned. He knew it was a fake plan but if it sounded too contrived any draculoids overhearing the conversation would struggle to believe it.  
“And me,” Red added.  
“It sounds suicidal to me,” Ghoul stared up in disbelief, having not seen the paper Jet had earlier held up.  
“Has anyone got a better plan?” Jet asked, with a light shake of his head.

A bleak chorus of ‘no’ echoed around the room and Jet smiled as he finished writing.

“Then we wait for him to wake up,” he concluded.  
“And we draw lots for who has to go out there,” Party insisted.

Jet saw an opening to give any eavesdropping Draculoids reason to believe the plan was doomed to fail.

“No, it has to be me,” he stated.  
“Hell, no!” Party began only to be interrupted.  
“I’m the only one not injured,” Jet cut in. “You and Ghoul are too weak and Kobra’s still limping.”

Red cleared her throat impatiently.

“I’m right here, you know,” she pouted.  
“I know,” Jet smirked. “But I can’t ask a _little girl_ to do this, can I?”  
“I guess not,” she replied through gritted teeth, before silently mouthing. _You are so dead!_  
“So, we wait for Korse to wake up,” Party repeated, smiling broadly at the exchange.

Keeping his laughter silent, Jet encouraged them all to crowd around Ghoul’s bed so that they could read his plan. Each reading at different speeds, their faces displayed a series of expressions that ranged through surprised, amused and impressed.

 

**_Plan_ **

_We’ll need the sheets from the bed. In the OR there are hundreds of capsules of pressurised hyponitrous oxide used to put people out for operations. They’re really small and under extremely high pressure, so you can fit about five in one hand. Each one is enough to put someone out for about four hours. If we set them off inside the vents, the gas will go through the A/C and if we use them all, there should be enough to knock everyone out who’s inside the hospital. Except us! If we cover the vents and doors in here with alcohol soaked sheets and our mouths and noses with soaked masks, any gas coming in here will be neutralised. We can then get to the cars easily._

 

Party took the pencil and scribbled at the bottom before handing the pencil to Jet.

_How will we know it’s worked?_

Passing the pencil to Dr Hawes, Jet smiled as he wrote.

_It’s commonly known as laughing gas. When they have too much, we’ll hear them laughing. When they stop, they’re unconscious._

Party grinned; not only were they going to escape, but they were going to be entertained in the process! In large letters, he wrote:

_GENIUS!!!_

_I’m hoping that if they heard the fake plan, more of them will come into the hospital to try to stop me. Especially if they think you’re all injured._

Jet added to the paper, earning an appreciative grin from Party. During the exchange, Dr Fielding had helped Ghoul from the bed and removed the sheets as quietly as possible. Turning a concerned eye toward the injured, pale and struggling Killjoy, she hastened to help him back onto the bare mattress. Noticing how ill he appeared, Party stepped forward, worried that the escape attempt would cause him too much distress.

“Party,” Fielding whispered, “he’ll be okay. It’s just the affects of the anaesthetic. He’s physically sound, he just needs to heal now, but he’ll get his strength back in a day or two.”

Party nodded gratefully; it made sense and he was relieved to hear that the prognosis was so optimistic. Smiling briefly at Ghoul and squeezing his hand, Party helped Fielding carry the bed linen to the OR before dousing it in clinical alcohol housed in several large bottles. Normally used as part of a makeshift sterilisation process, there was an abundant supply.

As they worked Dr Hawes and Jet, set up the capsules within the vents and a method of releasing the gas in batches of ten at a time. Enlisting the help of a fan to ensure that the gas stayed inside the vent rather than entering the room, they were ready within a matter of minutes.

Finding fourteen masks, they soaked them in the alcohol with the sheets before passing everyone two each. Placing both masks over their faces, Jet and Hawes showed the others what they needed to do without needing to utter a word. Finally, Jet showed them another hastily written note which read:

 

_We’ll have to stay in here to open the capsules. Once it’s done we’ll knock on the door but don’t open it until you’re sure that every drac is out cold. It’s possible that we might be too. There are some wheelchairs in the room next to this one. We’ll need one for Ghoul anyway. Be careful that you don’t get drunk on breathing in the alcohol in the masks!_

_We will get out of here!_

 

Everyone found themselves stifling a dark chuckle at the idea of getting drunk and perhaps forgetting to leave. Even considering their ability to shoot straight and even drive in a straight line once they reached the cars, but it was a chance they had to take.

Closing the door and covering all gaps in both doors and vents, the small group in the recovery room donned their masks - some frowning, some coughing at the overpowering smell. But all waited for the sound of laughter followed by silence. The tension in the room was palpable. It was a great plan in theory, but no one knew if it would work. There were many considerations. Would the gas be taken up into the air conditioning? Would the gas instead seep into the OR, overwhelming, possibly even killing Jet and Hawes. Would the gas manage to make it through the alcohol soaked sheets and masks? Would the gas disperse too thinly when it spread to the hospital? Would there be enough to disable the draculoids? When all possible failure points were considered, it seemed as though the best plan they had was risky at best. They could only wait.

It was Kobra who heard it first. After only a few minutes, distinct chuckling sounds were emerging from the far end of the corridor, loud enough to carry the length. No one in the recovery room knew how many draculoids were in the corridor, or even the hospital itself, but it seemed that the laughter was contagious and it was only a minute or two more before there was a cacophony of sound ringing through the hallway. Almost immediately, sounds of stumbling and random shots being fired followed by delighted whoops and increased laughter filled their ears.

Slowly, the noises tapered away to nothing and the sound of their own laboured breathing behind the masks was all they could hear. Only then did they hear a faint rapping on the adjoining door. Staggering, somewhat drunkenly, towards the door, giggling to himself as he weaved a zig zag pattern before opening it.

“I think it worked,” he slurred. “But I’m very drunk.”

Jet giggled and flopped a hand onto Party’s shoulder.

“Me too,” he hiccuped with a light chuckle.  
“Breathing in the vapour goes straight to the lungs, brain and blood,” Fielding explained slowly as she swayed gently. “It bypasses the liver, so it keeps its potency.”  
“This is how I’m getting drunk in future,” Ghoul giggled, snatching at invisible creatures floating in the air, all pain from his operation dulled and forgotten.

Fielding grinned broadly as she watched, fascinated by his attempt to catch whatever it was he could see.

“Of course,” she tipped her head and chuckled, “you’ve reacted more because of the anaesthetic. You’re going to have an incredible headache tomorrow!”  
“That’s tomorrow.” He waved a hand lazily, dismissing the idea. “That’s days away,” he offered a lopsided grin.

Jet, reached to help Ghoul stand, both of them staggering and giggling as the pair almost fell.

“Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”  
“Wait... wait,” Hawes took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts, pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket - a reminder of the next step. “We should switch to oxygen,” he continued.  
“Aww,” Kobra frowned.  
“There’s always someone who has to ruin the fun,” Red agreed, snaking her arms around Kobra’s waist.  
“Come on,” Jet repeated. “We need to... um... yeah! We need to get to the car.”

Slowly, but as fast as he could coordinate himself, Hawes equipped first himself, then each of them with a hand-held oxygen tank and mask. The sudden switch to oxygen had a dramatic effect, making them feel alert and at the same time a little lightheaded - still drunk, but strangely awake.

“This is weird!” Party announced, uncertain how his mind could feel simultaneously dulled and alert.  
“Let’s get out of here,” Jet instructed, trying his best to maintain a level head and still referring to notes made prior to inhaling the alcohol. “Watch out for dracs still conscious and don’t let them fire at the oxygen or we’ll all be ghosted. Let’s get a wheelchair for Ghoul.”  
“I’m fine!” Ghoul grinned, hugging Jet as he continued to hold him upright.  
“Yeah, now you are,” Jet grinned. “Because you can’t feel anything.”  
“Well, okay,” Ghoul nodded, his movements deliberate but controlled by a clouded mind still. “Only if you promise to bowl me at any dracs we meet.”  
“Deal!”

Jet chuckled, heading towards the door, followed by the rest of the group; Party stopping only to cast a frown at Korse.

“What about him?” He asked with disdain.  
“What about him?” Jet replied with a shrug.  
“Ah,” Party drew out the word, shaking his head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

As they picked their way carefully through the hospital corridors, passing or stepping over several unconscious draculoids as they went, it seemed as though Korse probably had another microphone somewhere on his person. The sheer number of BLI lackeys suggested that if any were still outside, the numbers would be minimal. With each step, the oxygen continued to have a sobering effect on the Killjoys and doctors, making it easier for them to prepare for the final aspect of their daring escape plan.

Following Dr Hawes down to the underground parking lot, they were particularly careful, realising that the air conditioning probably didn’t extend to the lower levels. As they approached stealthily, they spotted one draculoid almost immediately but knew there was almost certainly more. Now able to safely remove their oxygen masks, the Killjoys, minus Ghoul, stepped forward, keeping to the shadows and scanning the area. Making out the now visible shadows of two more, they assigned one to each of them, with Red as their cover and additional eyes, should another appear. With terrifying precision, despite the effects of the alcohol still weighing on them, Party and Kobra dispatched the first two, with Jet felling the third within moments. Quickly scanning the area, they were about to head for the car before Red fell to her knees, and rolling forward, fired off a blast to the far right. Another white-clad draculoid crumpled to the floor with a pained gasp.

Party and Kobra continued to peer into the relative darkness of the parking lot for few moments more while Jet helped Red to her feet.

“Nice catch,” he grinned approvingly.  
“Just saw movement out of the corner of my eye,” she replied with a smile.  
“I think we’re clear now,” Party announced. “Good work, Red. I knew we kept you with us for a reason,” he added with a chuckle, pulling her towards himself for a brief hug.  
“Don’t think you’re off the hook for the _little girl_ comment before,” she warned, brushing his arms away with a smirk adorning her face.

Party grinned back; this was actually going to work.

“Let’s go,” he said heading toward the car.

Before opening the door, Party turned to speak to Fielding.

“We have somewhere we need to be,” he began. “You and Dr Hawes head to the address I gave you and wait for us there. We’ll meet you in a few days, okay?”  
“Yeah,” Fielding nodded. “Be careful!”  
“Party Poison,” he shrugged dramatically, whilst beaming a smile. “I’m always careful!”

Ghoul snorted his derision at the comment, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Thanks,” Party added with surprising sincerity. “I owe you.”

Pulling him into a quick embrace, Fielding gave him a kiss on the cheek before pulling away.

“We’ll see you soon.”

Helping Ghoul into the passenger seat, Jet folded the wheelchair before placing it in the trunk of the car. Once everyone had piled in, Party revved the engine and sped out of the parking lot, tyres screeching on the concrete floor as they pulled away. Finally free of BLI, but there was still so much to do.


	46. The Aftermath is Secondary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the Killjoys’ escape be successful or will the remaining draculoids outside bring it to a grinding halt?

As the trans am emerged into the sunlight, Party squinted, lowering the car’s sun visor; the beginnings of a headache starting to form. From their seats in the back, Jet and Red could see surprised Draculoids running towards their motorcycles. From their expressions Red could imagine that the last transmission from those inside the hospital was that it was simply a waiting game and that the Killjoys would try the impossible escape plan vocalised by Jet to cover the real plan. Now it was the Killjoys’ job to lead the draculoids away so that the doctors could escape. From her vantage point on the left of the car, Red had a clear view of the rear of the hospital, where they had waited.

“There’s only three,” she announced, drawing her ray gun and frowning at the plain whiteness of it. She would address that as soon as possible - maybe something in purple and green?  
“Bringing us around to the front now,” Party laughed, despite the headache forming, he was still feeling quite drunk and with it a feeling of careless abandon.

As the car swerved around the side of the building, raising much laughter inside the car as all occupants where thrown to the right, Party suddenly frowned. 

“Ghoul!” He cried. “I’m sorry, babe. Kinda overcompensated there.”  
“It’s okay,” Ghoul forced out, pale and clutching his side.”  
“You’re hurt,” Party replied, still concerned. “I should be thinking about how not to make it worse.”  
“Heh!” Ghoul managed a throaty chuckle. “I’m still pretty drunk, so I kinda don’t care. Keep your mind on driving, not me!”  
“It’s hard!”  
“Well, stop thinking about me then,” he replied dissolving into a painful fit of giggles.  
“Ew, Party!” Kobra gasped in mock horror. “Save it for the bedroom!”  
“Concentrating on driving’s hard!” Party growled.  
“Well,” Kobra began, with Jet and Red joining in immediately, seeing where the words were heading, “stop thinking about him then!”

Losing his indignation, Party chuckled, giving in to the humour. As he did, Ghoul stretched his arm across from the passenger seat and patted Party’s crotch.

“Hey!” Party gasped in surprise.  
“I was right the first time,” he added, alternately laughing and grimacing as the pain cut through his drunken haze.

Looking out of the door window, Party saw another four draculoids, slightly more prepared than the ones at the rear of the hospital and he had to assume that they had been warned.

“Jet? Red? Ready?” He asked, his tone turning suddenly serious.  
“Ready,” the pair chorused in return as that stood to fire at the approaching draculoids. 

Using two guns each, Jet and Red picked off the first three relatively easily and a fourth accidentally when one of the motorbikes clipped the wheel of another as the draculoid fell from his seat. The fourth skidding out of control and throwing its rider onto the side of the road. It wasn’t certain whether he was still alive as, at the very least, he had been knocked unconscious.

Continuing to lead the remaining draculoids away from the hospital, Party grinned as, in his rear view mirror and obscured by dust and sand kicked up in the chase, he saw the faint outline of a second car leaving the hospital and heading in the opposite direction. Pressing the pedal to the floor, Party buried the tachometer needle in the red zone and began pulling away at high speed. Bracing themselves against the increase in speed, Jet and Red continued to fire, picking off one more before the remaining two brought their motorbikes slowly to a halt. Across the top of the car, Jet and Red holstered one each of their guns and reached over to greet each other with an enthusiastic high five. Inside the car, cheers and whooping filled the air. They were free and only a forty minute drive from their destination. 

The hospital had once been a little way outside of the town of Nystad. It was said that there had once been another town where the hospital stood, but nobody was certain. Now as the town had grown, the hospital was now on the outskirts, with a few local dwellings nearby, some of which may well have been abandoned. A large town by Zone standards, home to some twenty-five thousand people, it was still only a short drive from one side to the other. The Killjoys had a very specific location in mind - the home and retail premises of clothing designer, tailor and vendor, Kami Kazee.

*

Korse opened his eyes half way; the spot on his neck where Kobra had hit him had bloomed into a dark blue and red bruise and even the smallest movements sent sharp pain both up behind his ear and down into his shoulder. The floor was cold, a little grubby and there was a distinct smell of alcohol in the air. Finally raising his eyes he saw, to his intense frustration, the door open and the Killjoys and the doctors gone. He would not shout for help, not only was it humiliating, but whilst he remained in the now abandoned hospital, his wrists in restraints and his ankles bound, he was in significant danger.

“Korse to draculoids. Guard status imperative.”

His voice was muted and hoarse. Coughing to try to clear his throat, he almost didn’t hear the reply.

“Almost with you, sir,” came a nervous reply.

Even though the words were heard through a microphone set underneath the skin behind his right ear, he noticed that he could also hear the words being spoken in the corridor. At least now he knew it was safe to shout.

“In here!” He called, his voice still gravelly.

The sound of shuffling and the clatter of boots settling into a gentle run reached him - but not fast enough.

“In here! Now!” He bellowed.

Even with their masks on, their body language and hesitant movements - almost trying to withdraw even as they approached Korse - showed that they felt sheepish and scared. Without needing to ask the question, Korse’s shoulders sagged and he exhaled deeply. How had seven people including one severely injured and one starved almost to the point of passing out have overcome three squads of Draculoids? It was impossible to imagine. The two draculoids in the room, unknown to Korse, were the only ones still alive and conscious. But they would be unfortunate enough to feel the brunt of his fury.

“Don’t just stand there!” Korse roared. “Release me!”  
“S-sir!” One responded, his voice shaking almost as much as his hands. 

Reaching into his pocket for a key as he knelt at Korse’s side, he fumbled and dropped it. The small tinkling sound irritating Korse all the more.

“Get these off me, you fool! Do you want to be processed?” He growled.

It was true to say that the draculoid wanted to flee the room, leaving him there, but knew that it would be the end of his life if he did.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he mumbled instead, picking up the key and trying with all his strength to keep his hands from shaking so much that he couldn’t fit it into the lock, or worse still - if he dropped it again.

Finally releasing Korse from the restraints as the other managed to untie his ankles, the draculoid stood to help Korse to stand.

“Now,” he sighed, without much hope. “Tell me you captured the Killjoys.”

Both draculoids merely stared in return, barely daring to respond.

“Any of them? One of them?” He asked with pointed disdain.  
“No, sir,” one of them replied. “I don’t know how they did it, sir, but every draculoid in the hospital was rendered unconscious.”  
“Unconscious?” Korse’s expression darkened. “And yet somehow, not themselves?”  
“That’s right, sir.” He swallowed hard. “As I said, I don’t know how they did it.”  
“And you?” Korse pressed. “Somehow you are quite awake, but you didn’t stop them escaping!”  
“Sir, we were outside, but we weren’t expecting them. They announced a plan... a different plan, completely different. When they drove out, we were taken by surprise. We chased after them, but they had a head start and they managed to kill four of us.”  
“But not you? And you let them drive away?” 

The tension in Korse’s body was spilling out into the room and spreading itself to the two nervous draculoids. His clenched jaw ensured that the words were almost fired from his mouth like bullets from a gun and the effect was just as devastating. There was only one thing the draculoid could say that would redeem them from certain death.

“Sir, we had to. We knew you were alone in here, you were unconscious, possibly hurt. We didn’t know how long the others would be out for and we couldn’t leave you without protection.”

Korse exhaled slowly. The tension inside him flowing out with his breath. He couldn’t fault them for their loyalty. 

“Let’s get back to Battery City,” Korse growled. “You can drive,” he said pointing to the draculoid who had just spoken, “and you can be my outrider.  
“What about the others, sir? They might need medical attention.”  
“Leave them,” he spat, “if they wake up, their motorbikes are still here, they can make their way back.”  
“And if they don’t?” One asked.  
“Good point,” Korse nodded. “I’ll send a truck to collect the motorbikes and their masks.”

Behind their masks, the draculoids’ eyes widened at the callous remark, but they weren’t prepared to argue further, for fear that he would reconsider their fate.

*

It was approaching six o’clock when the trans am pulled into the private underground parking beneath Kami’s shop and residence. The mood inside the car was subdued. The adrenaline rush of their escape and the inhaled alcohol had combined to create hangovers. Lack of money and supplies had seen to it that none of them had even seen alcohol for years, never mind drinking it and now, the after effects seemed powerful.

“I preferred it when I felt nothing,” Ghoul grumbled.  
“How are you feeling?” Party turned a concerned expression toward the younger man.  
“Tired, sore and sick,” he sighed in response.  
“We’re here now,” Party replied switching off the engine and giving Ghoul’s hand a light squeeze. “You can rest and I have the meds you need to help you heal.”

Ghoul offered a weak smile and lifted Party’s hand to kiss it. Party looked fit to drop but was only concerned for his welfare.

“You need rest too,” Ghoul commented.

Party grinned and shook his head. 

“You’re inviting me to bed?” Party chuckled. “I thought you wanted to rest?”  
“You know,” Kobra piped up, “I think I preferred it when you thought we didn’t know!”

Ghoul started laughing at the comment before falling almost immediately into a pained grimace as he clutched his stomach.

“We’re only talking, Kobra,” he chuckled finally. “It’s not like we’re doing it in front of you!”

Kobra flushed red at the comment as he recalled discovering that Ghoul had not only witnessed him and Red making love at Kami’s but had apparently watched.

“Well, if you did, I wouldn’t watch,” he grumbled.  
“Relax, Kobra,” Ghoul smiled, “I didn’t watch. That would just be creepy and besides, the noises were more than enough!”

Kobra turned to look out of the window at nothing, relieved but still embarrassed to have it discussed openly. 

Jet smiled at the interaction, having been no happier about the idea of Ghoul watching Red. Turning to Red, now leaning up against the window, sleeping soundly, Jet shook her shoulder gently.

“Red,” he spoke softly. “It’s time to wake up.”

A sound of disapproving reluctance reached his ears and his smile broadened. Party chuckled at the noise as he opened the car door to cross over to the passenger side to help Ghoul out. Kobra, glad of a change of scene and subject also stepped from the car to fetch the wheelchair from the trunk.

“Come on, Scarlet, we’re here, you have to get up.”  
“Go away, Ray,” she mumbled in return.

Holding on to her as Party opened the passenger side door so she wouldn’t fall, Jet expected her to complain about him continuing to wake her, but she had drifted off again.

“I’ll carry her up,” Jet smiled as Kobra looked in to see how she was.  
“It’s okay,” Kobra replied, “I’ll do it,” he added leaning down to scoop up his sleeping girlfriend.  
“Thanks,” Jet nodded, pushing himself across the seat to the opposite side and stepping out into the semi-darkness. “Kami’s probably about to shut up shop.”  
“Good timing then,” Kobra spoke quietly in return.  
“Jet,” Party stood upright, “can you help me with Ghoul? I’m worried I’m not strong enough.”  
“Hey!” Ghoul objected. “I’m not heavy!” He added with a slight pout.  
“I know,” Party laughed, stroking his hair. “You’re as light as a feather, but I haven’t eaten since you went missing. I’m amazed I’m still standing!”

Ghoul turned concerned eyes toward Party, reaching for his hand in a comforting manner.

“I had no idea!” Ghoul gasped. “You must be running on adrenaline!”  
“Probably,” Party shrugged. “But I think I’m empty.”

Jet, now at their side, reached down into the car and lifted Ghoul as gently as he was able, being careful to limit the amount of twisting he had to do and lowered him slowly into the wheelchair. Despite a grimace or two, Ghoul managed to hide the majority of his pain.

“Let it out, Ghoul,” Jet instructed. “I know I’m hurting you and I’m sorry.”

Obligingly, Ghoul let out a cry of pain and a deep sigh followed by four or five snatched breaths.

“It’s okay, Jet,” he gasped. “It’s not your fault, I know you did your best. I doubt anyone could have done it better,” he added. “I’ve just had a spike removed from my side. It’s going to hurt.”

Jet patted his shoulder comfortingly. He wasn’t certain it was true, but it was kind of him to say. Now, what they all needed was to get inside. Closing the car door and locking it, Party was about to head toward the door to the shop when a voice called out.

“Who’s there?” 

It was a woman’s voice and it sounded fierce. Whoever it belonged to sounded as though she could look after herself in a fight.

“Kami?” Jet ventured. “Is that you?”  
“Who wants to know and what are you doing in my garage?”  
“It’s Jet, Kami,” he replied, now recognising her voice.  
“Jet!” She called with excitement in her voice. “Did you manage to find Party?”  
“They did,” Party confirmed as Kami switched on the lights.  
“Oh, my!” She almost squeaked on seeing them all clustered around them car. “All of you! You’re safe!”

She broke into a run to greet them, only then noticing that Ghoul was sitting in a wheelchair. Racing to his side, she knelt and took his hand, whilst at the same time stroking his hair.

“Oh! Sweet Ghoul, you’re hurt! What happened?” She asked, placing a kiss on his cheek.  
“We were in an explosion,” Party cut in before Ghoul had a chance to speak. “He saved my life.”  
“Well, that’s because he loves you,” Kami looked up grinning, happy to see Party safe and sound. “I do too!” She announced, standing and throwing her arms around him. “Not in the same way, obviously,” she laughed.  
“Kami, can we rest up here for a day or two?” Jet asked. “We’re all pretty fried, Kobra’s hurt his ankle, Ghoul’s had a chair leg removed from his side and Party’s been tortured and hasn’t eaten in days.”  
“Oh, well, we can definitely remedy that,” she offered hugs to Jet, Kobra and Red as she spoke. “When was the last time the rest of you ate?”  
“Er... for some of us it was when we were here. Kobra and I have eaten a little since then,” Jet replied with a tinge of guilt in his tone.  
“Well, now,” Kami took the handles of the wheelchair. “I’ve just shut up shop. Let’s get you inside, get you fed, watered and rested. Then tomorrow I’ll show you the clothes I made for you all.”  
“All?” Kobra turned a surprised glance toward her. “I thought you were making clothes for Red.”  
“I thought I was already wearing them!” Red added, just as surprised as Kobra.  
“I know all your measurements from last time I made you clothes. I thought it was about time you had new things.”  
“But... Kami, we can’t pay you,” Jet admitted. “We can for Red’s clothes, but...”  
“I don’t want you to,” Kami began to walk towards the elevator, pushing the wheelchair in front of her. “I wanted to do something for you, and this is all I can do. Well, that and look after you.”  
“Kami...” Jet began, at a loss for what to say.  
“I love you too, Jet,” she turned to pull him close and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Now come on, let’s get you all fit and well again.”

The Killjoys stared momentarily before following Kami to the elevator. Yes, they had helped Kami over the years, but she had more than repaid them with her unfailing kindness and generosity. They couldn’t believe their luck to have someone like Kami on their side. Her friendship and willingness to risk everything to help them was worth a thousand of Candi and Ice. One day, they hoped to be able to repay her, but for now, tired, hurting and hungry, they followed her to the elevator. Cheered by the thought of food and rest, they revelled in the fact that they were all safe and together again.


	47. Be afraid. Be very afraid... Korse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at BLI, Korse reports to Madam Director Miharu

The office was dark and cold. The grim, cheerless room was stark and sparsely furnished with glass and chrome furniture offering little comfort. At that moment, however, that detail was irrelevant as both occupants of the room were standing.

Exterminator Korse, had been summoned even before he had arrived back at the towering building that housed BLI Headquarters. The call had come through on the radio as he approached Battery City’s outer limits. Even though he had expected it and had tried to prepare for it on the journey back, Korse was still on edge. The last time he had been summoned, he had been decommissioned for three weeks and subjected to partial processing. The procedure sounded innocuous, but was something he dreaded happening again. He had suffered a combination of brainwashing techniques accompanied by a variety of punishments that could only seriously be described as torture and he was determined that it would not happen again.

Now as he stood stiffly in front of the desk, staring blankly ahead, his body rigid with his hands clasped behind his back, he wondered, with a dry mouth and racing heart, if partial processing was the least of his worries. Katsumi Miharu, Director of the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit paced the room behind him. The interview had begun some twenty minutes earlier but as yet, she had not uttered a single word. With every second, Korse’s fear grew but he knew better than to be the first to speak, especially after the debacle ending with all Killjoys escaping virtually unscathed.

To outward appearances, the Chief Exterminator feared nothing and no one. The reality, however, was very different and although it was true to say that he feared only one person, that fear was deep seated and significant. Madam Director Miharu held absolute power in the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit and even beyond in the wider circles of BLI. She was ruthless, merciless and dedicated to BLI and despite their shared qualities, Korse was deeply fearful of her. He had reason to be.

Now, feeling agitated and nervous, Korse drew in a deep breath as she walked past him once more; wishing, almost willing her to speak, he remained rigid.

“So,” she finally spoke after a further eight minutes of pacing, while she collected her thoughts, making Korse await her wrath. “Let me see if I understand you correctly.”

Pausing while she walked slowly to stand behind her desk, she fixed him with a cold, steely glare.

“I arranged for the Hart woman to capture and contain the Killjoys. She had three of them, but you remove Party Poison from the premises?”

Korse had his own answers prepared and began his defence, almost by attacking.

“Under your orders, Madam Director,” he objected.  
“My orders?” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you quite sure?”  
“Madam Director, I am under your instruction to destroy the Killjoys, I was following your orders. You told me where to find them!” Korse tried to maintain eye contact but the severity of her glare forced his eyes to look down to the floor.

Leaning forward on the desk, Miharu almost spat her next words.

“I wanted to show you that I had done what you had failed to do. I had neutralised the Killjoys.”  
“It wasn’t complete,” he argued. “She didn’t have Jet Star. He rescued them, that was not my doing.”  
“Well, that is open to opinion.”

Picking up a grey folder from her desk, she opened it to a marked sheet and read aloud.

“Hart reports: ‘I had three of the Killjoys locked in their individual exhibition cells and was awaiting the arrival of Jet Star. I was, admittedly, unaware that he had arrived at the museum having avoided capture, however, if Exterminator Korse hadn’t removed Party Poison from the exhibition, I would not have been distracted and it is doubtful that an escape would have been possible. I successfully recaptured Fun Ghoul and had placed a governor in Kobra Kid’s neck causing him severe pain at will. It was only a matter of time before I recaptured them all and returned them to their cells. However, I have since discovered that one of Korse’s lackeys was in my employ and helped them to escape the guards I had placed at the exits. Without his assistance all of the Killjoys would still be in my possession’.”

Miharu looked up expectantly, growing ever angrier that initially Korse said nothing. Outwardly, he appeared stern and calm, whilst inside his quick mind was replaying the scenario and seeking ways to twist events to clear himself of blame.

“Well?” She demanded. “What do you have to say?”  
“You’re taking her word?” He scoffed. “Of course she’d say that, she’s trying to shift the blame. She’s scared of what you’ll do to her.”

Closing the file slowly, Miharu placed it neatly back on the desk. The action, even though it was carried out in a calm and precise manner, was only an outward display to hide the seething rage bubbling within.

“If there is anyone who should be scared, Korse, it is you!” She finally erupted. “You allowed, possibly even facilitated, their escape in order to initiate your own plan. Your own, utterly unnecessary and ultimately unworkable plan!”  
“No, it would have worked,” Korse unclasped his hands and becoming more animated. “But for Dr Fielding developing a misplaced conscience!”  
“Do not try to blame your incompetence on someone else, Korse!” She spat with a critical and aggrieved tone that matched her cold and dispassionate expression.

Waiting a further few seconds for a reply and receiving none, Miharu slammed the palms of her hands down onto the table in fury.

“Did Party Poison escape?”  
“Yes,” Korse replied bitterly.  
“He made a fool of you.” It was almost a question.  
“Yes.”  
“Twice!”  
“It almost worked,” he protested. “I almost destroyed him!”  
“I am concerned about your personal involvement in this, Korse and what I can only describe as a vendetta. Your actions were not in BLI’s interests, they were in your own.”  
“It is the same thing,” Korse insisted.  
“No!” She snapped. “It is not! You follow my orders, Korse and only my orders. You are obsessed. You conduct a sham interrogation and proceed with barely a hint of what BLI expects of you with political prisoners. You continue with your own and solely your own agenda! Your feelings, such as they are, are causing you to fail BLI, Korse and that is not acceptable.”

Korse stiffened; his only hope was to try to convince her that what he had tried to do was, in fact, in the interests of BLI and that that had been his only concern. Despite his best efforts, he seemed to be heading further from that goal with every response. Exhaling, he opted to deny his obsession.

“My personal feelings are irrelevant,” Korse stated coldly.  
“Yes, Korse, you are absolutely correct. Your feelings are irrelevant.” Miharu tipped her head as she glared at him. “But they got in the way, didn’t they? And that is precisely what I am concerned about. Leaving you with anger has, until now, made you a better Exterminator. But I believe your emotional state is blinding you to the bigger picture. I am aware of who and what Party Poison is to you, Korse and now I see that your pride and arrogance are preventing you from remaining objective. I am scheduling a period of adjustment for you. I want to be certain that your personal feelings towards Poison are eradicated.”

Korse shifted uncomfortably as he contemplated her words.

“What are you suggesting?” He asked, his voice hesitant and nervous.  
“I believe it’s time to commit you to the third level of existence,” Miharu replied coldly.  
“No!” Korse cried out, terrified by the suggestion. “I admit, I failed, but I had only BLI’s interests in mind. I can make amends. I won’t fail again.”  
“Words,” she snapped, unimpressed by his confession. “I am simply not convinced, Korse,” she shook her head dismissive of his objections. “We must deal with your obsessional preoccupation with Party Poison.”  
“No, no... It’s not necessary,” he argued. “I know more about them now. I know their weaknesses, all of them, even the new female they have with them. I can control them all simply by capturing two of them. Don’t you want to see Poison grovelling and pleading with us for his life? Don’t you want to see him destroyed in the eyes of the Zone Dwellers?”  
“This is _your_ obsession, Korse and you are fooling yourself if you believe that Party Poison would ever plead for his life. I just want them neutralised.”

And there it was, in an instant. An idea flashed into Korse’s mind that he hoped would convince Miharu that his intention was for the greater good of BLI only.

“Yes, but if we do this my way, we demoralise the Zones. Your way, they rally to the Killjoy’s aid or even their memory and become increasingly dangerous in the process. The more power the Zone Dwellers believe themselves to have, the more they’ll try to exercise that power. By destroying the Killjoys we take down the Zones too, leaving BLI as the uncontested authority it should be.”

Miharu narrowed her eyes and began to pace once more, tapping the back of her left hand as she considered his words.

“And you want me to believe that this was your intention all along?”  
“Of course,” he lied. “My actions are documented and the purpose is clear. I do not see what else could it have been.”  
“You do not see that your obsession with Party Poison is damaging...”  
“I do not have an obsession with Party Poison. I have an obsession, on your orders, of crushing the Killjoys. He is their leader, it makes perfect sense to target him.”  
“He is also your nephew.”  
“He was,” Korse adopted a disapproving scowl, “but for that matter, so was Kobra Kid and I don’t have any, so called, obsession with him.”

Miharu stopped pacing and search Korse’s expression for signs of deceit. There were none. Either she had misread him or he was truly better at lying than she had given him credit for. Uncertain, she nodded; his words were plausible, his actions could conceivably be seen in that light.

“Very well,” she conceded. “Find a way to discredit the Killjoys. You will have whatever resources you need.”  
“Thank you, Madam Director,” Korse breathed a silent sigh of relief.  
“Don’t thank me, Korse,” she growled, displaying her continued mistrust of his actions. “Just don’t fail me again. I will not take two failures lightly.”

*

The small group headed towards the elevator up to Kami’s residence, Party taking the handles of Ghoul’s wheelchair and leaning on it more than he cared to admit. Perhaps it was the sudden lack of adrenaline in his body, or perhaps it was just that everything had come to a head, but he noticed that it started with his ears.

The echoing in the parking garage as they walked and at least two people talked, swirled in his head, the sounds ebbing and flowing like waves. It felt as though the sounds had movement and direction of their own and as they moved, they pulled him off balance. The noises grew louder, ricocheting off the inside of his skull like laser fire. His mouth filled with moisture and his eyes first glazed then rolled back. He heard, or at least he thought he heard someone call his name, but he didn’t feel the pain as he crashed almost soundlessly to the floor.

The first Ghoul knew about what had happened was the wheelchair grinding to a sudden halt, almost immediately followed by wide-eyed concern from Kobra, Jet and Kami. Kobra especially was agitated; alarmed by Party’s fall but unable to respond as he carried the still sleeping form of Red in his arms.

“What’s happened?” Ghoul tried to get a better view, first just looking over his shoulder, then by turning the wheels on the chair, but both actions brought nothing but pain. “Someone tell me what’s happened!” He yelled, anxious by their lack of response.  
“It’s okay, Ghoul,” Kami looked up from her position at Party’s side. “Jet, my love, turn Ghoul around so he can see. I’m worried he’ll hurt himself.”  
“It’s not okay!” Ghoul cried, still frustrated that he was still unable to see Party for himself. “What’s happened?” He repeated.

Jet quickly rose to his feet from where he knelt opposite Kami and turned the wheelchair before Ghoul succumbed to his panic and pushed himself out of it.

“He’s okay, Ghoul,” Kami continued soothingly. “He’s passed out, that’s all. He’s been through a lot, I’m sure. I doubt they treated him well at BLI.”  
“No,” Ghoul shook his head, remembering some of the things Party had told him in the car during the short drive. “No,” he repeated, his voice finally calming.  
“In fact,” she rose to her feet once more, as Jet bent to scoop Party into his arms. “You and Party can take my bed. I’ll be fine on the little couch.”  
“No,” Ghoul shook his head, “that’s not fair, I can’t...”  
“You agree Party needs the bed?” Kami interrupted.  
“Well... yeah, but...”  
“And it’s a big bed, why waste it? Who else is going to share with him? Besides, it’s arranged now.”

Ghoul allowed a smile to cross his lips and settle.

“What would we do without you, Kami?” He asked, his eyelids half closed from his own exhaustion.  
“Oh, it hardly bears considering!” She laughed, taking hold of the wheelchair’s handles. “Come on, you’re safe now and you all need food, water, and a lot of rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still got 1 or 2 chapters left. Tempted to do 3 so it ends on 50, but I’ll only do that if it needs it. I won’t drag it out for the sake of it. Still, I shall be sorry to see it go, I’ve had fun with this. I hope you have too :)


	48. You Called Me Cheap!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers flare at Kami’s

Heading up from the parking garage and delivery entrance, the Killjoys, two of the group being carried by Kobra and Jet and one in a wheelchair, were grateful for the large goods elevator. Even in this safe location, none of them wanted to be separated. It was over, for now at least, but they still felt a little on edge. Perhaps their senses were still heightened by adrenaline, but they knew, once they were inside Kami’s, they could finally relax. Kobra made a mental note to thank Ghoul for his foresight, determination and courage to back his instincts against the android Party by stopping Red mentioning Kami’s name, or any of their other contacts. He had no doubt that if he had not, their next mission would be rescuing Kami from BLI or avenging her death.

“Ghoul, sweetheart,” Kami tilted her head to look at the young man seated in the wheelchair, “you look a bit pale. Are you okay?”  
“I’m... I’m a bit sore,” he admitted without looking up.

Kami turned a concerned expression to Jet, who immediately nodded. It seemed as though they both knew that ‘a bit sore’ was code for ‘in excruciating pain.

“Party’s got his meds in his pocket. I’ll fish them out when we get upstairs.”  
“I’m fine,” Ghoul almost mumbled. “Just look after Party.”  
“Believe it or not,” Kami smiled, stroking Ghoul’s hair and receiving a soft sigh in response, “I can look after more than one person at the same time.”

Ghoul tipped his head back, pressing it into Kami’s hand.

“You stopped,” he smiled, looking up and back so she appeared upside down to him.  
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she laughed, running her fingers gently across his hair once more.

Only moments later, the elevator slowed to a smooth stop and Kami moved forwards to pull the metal concertina door aside. Re-entering the elevator, Kami continued her ministrations until Jet and Kobra had stepped out, before following with Ghoul.

“You’re limping,” she commented as she drew alongside Kobra.  
“I know,” he offered a small smile. “It’s bandaged up so I can’t bend it. It’s just a small sprain, I’ll be fine. There’s only Jet and Red unhurt, actually.”  
“And how is Red? She was only speaking to me a minute or so ago and she was asleep again even before Party passed out.”

Kobra looked down at Red once again sleeping peacefully in his arms, a half smile on her lips and raising one of his own.

“Yeah, she’s exhausted. And before you say it, I know we all are, but there wasn’t much point us all staying awake in the car.”  
“Did anyone else get any sleep?”  
Kobra laughed. “No! We were all too busy trying to keep Party awake. Don’t ask me why but he insisted on driving all the way. I know it wasn’t very far, but I don’t think any of us wanted to wake up in a hole with Party asleep at the wheel, you know?”  
“Well, let’s get you all rested!” She chuckled as they walked through the stock room. “It’s a long way back to Zone 6.”  
“Oh, we’ve got a lot to do before we go back home,” Kobra rolled his eyes.  
“Like what?” Kami asked with concern as they passed through the door to her living room.  
“Well, for one,” Kobra began, as he gently lowered Red onto the smaller of the two couches and bent to place a soft, sweet kiss on her forehead. “I want... well, I think we all want, to kill Candi and Ice for what they did to us,” he continued in a casual tone as if it were an everyday occurrence.  
“Ah,” Jet began; he sounded hesitant, almost apologetic. “Already did. Sorry.”

Kobra raised an eyebrow; despite his statement that they would all want to kill Candi and Ice, he knew that none of them truly relished the prospect. It was a matter of self-preservation. Alive and free, it was more than possible that the pair would sell their knowledge of them again and the next time, they might not be so fortunate. Killing them was the only option available to them, but despite everything, they had once been friends and it would be no easy task. Added to that, Kobra knew that, of all of them, Jet was the least comfortable with killing. He would, if he had to, but it always affected him. Killing Candi and Ice, no matter how necessary, would have taken its toll on him and Kobra was concerned. When a suitable time presented itself he would speak to him, but not now, not in front of everyone.

“Don’t apologise, Jet,” Kobra clapped his arm across the older man’s shoulders. “You did the world a favour.”

Jet merely grunted an acknowledgement and gave a short perfunctory nod. Lowering Party down onto the other couch, he began to search Party’s pockets for the tablets and instructions given to him by Dr Fielding; he speeded up his search as he heard Ghoul stifle a pained moan. No one had even noticed Kami leave the room until she returned with several bottles of water, first handing one to Ghoul before placing the others on the table. Finding three strips of tablets wrapped inside a piece of paper in Party’s jacket’s inside pocket, Jet stood up and quickly read the instructions on the paper.

“Okay, Ghoul,” he began handing the younger man a strip of tablets. “Two of these, and...” he handed him another, “one of these.”  
“Thanks,” Ghoul replied gratefully, popping the pills from the blister packs. “What about the others?”  
“They’re the same as that one,” he pointed to the second strip. “You might need more of them.”  
“What are they?”

Jet examined the letter again and took a deep breath.

“The first one with the unpronounceable name is an antibiotic, and the second one with the completely unpronounceable name is a painkiller.”  
“Oh, good,” Ghoul smiled thinly. “I glad there’s plenty of them.”  
“Come on, sweetie,” Kami stepped forward. “Take them and we’ll get you and Party tucked up in bed for the sleep of a lifetime.”

Ghoul was already swallowing the pills as she spoke, grateful to finally have some pain relief.

“Oh, but, do you want something to eat first?” Kami asked with uncertainty. “I know you all desperately need both, especially Party, but I don’t know...”  
“Sleep,” Ghoul interrupted. “Sorry, Kami, we just need to sleep,” he added with heavy lidded, drooping eyes.

Leaning down, Kami placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Jet, can you bring Party, please? I’ll show you to my room.”  
“Sure,” Jet nodded, lifting the still unconscious Party, and frowning at how light he felt. Party was never heavy, but the last few days of starvation had made a significant difference. Only now did he notice that Party’s normally close-fitting jeans looked as loose on him as Ghoul’s.

Left alone with the still sleeping Red, Kobra settled himself onto the opposite couch previously and briefly occupied by Party and tried hard to stay awake himself.

*

“Miss Hart,” Sorby’s tall and imposing form entered her suite. “You wanted to see me?”

Hart’s suite was a set of large, decorative but tastefully furnished rooms, mostly in creams, bronze and gold, situated in the east wing of the museum. She had other properties within Battery City, but mostly she preferred to stay amongst her prized collections. She was, at that moment, reclined on a black leather couch, holding a glass of brandy, swirling the liquid in the glass to gently warm it. All around, examples of her favourite artworks that she had kept for her own pleasure. The paintings included a number of portraits, seascapes and country scenes and were nestled among examples of nineteenth century glassware and pottery from Europe, and even two small statues of Greek goddesses standing either side of the entrance to her bedroom.

“Yes, Miles, thank you for coming so quickly. I was wondering what progress you had made in your preparations for returning my property?”

Sorby smirked at the use of the phrase.

“I have made a great deal of progress, Miss Hart. I have devised a trap, not dissimilar to the animal traps people used to leave in woods. Fun Ghoul will be the bait, of course, and I have no doubt that Party Poison will try to rescue him. However, once inside, there is no way out until we open it.”  
“Excellent! I would like to see it once it’s ready. You know how appreciative I am of your work,” she smiled broadly, eliciting a similar response in Sorby. “And how will you obtain your bait?”  
“With the assistance of four disposable men and my pilot, Bob.”  
“Disposable?”  
“Yes, Miss Hart,” Sorby nodded, his expression growing serious. “Don’t worry, they will be disposed of completely, there will be no trace of them.”

Rising from her seat and placing the brandy glass on a low table in front of the couch, she headed over to her bar area, along the far wall.

“I can always rely on you, Miles. Can I pour you a drink?”  
“Thank you, ma’am; a whisky if you have it.”  
“I do,” she smiled, “I have only the best, of course.”

Pouring him a large crystal tumbler of the finest single malt, she offered the glass to Sorby, collecting her own on the way. Raising it, she proposed a toast.

“To the return of property,” she nodded.

Sorby lifted his glass, lightly tapping it to hers making a gentle, musical ringing sound.

“To the return of property,” he agreed, as they both took a sip of their drinks.

*

“Hey!”

Kobra’s eyes barely opened at the insistent interruption. This was at least the third time the unwelcome noise had disturbed his sleep. From a sitting position with his eyes closed, Kobra had, at some point, settled down, stretching himself along the deep, comfortable cushions and resting his head on a soft cloud-like pillow.

“Hey, Kobra.”

In his head he quite clearly asked the interloper to go away. Determined not to wake up, he refused to engage whoever it was in conversation. Of course, due to his tiredness, his words were muffled and unintelligible. Obviously getting nowhere, the noise became a body, pressing against him. Immediately he was awake and alert, pushing forward to attack or defend - whichever was needed.

“Thanks,” came a disgruntled voice from the floor.

Now half sitting up, Kobra looked down, his heart racing, adrenaline flowing and eyes wide. Beneath him, and rolling over as he watched, Red glared up.

“What was that about?” She demanded, partly embarrassed and partly struggling not to laugh at Kobra’s horrified expression.  
“I’m sorry, baby! I didn’t...” he pushed his hand through his hair as he scrambled for the right words. “I was asleep. I thought you... I... I don’t know what I thought,” he stammered. “What were you... I mean, is anything wrong?”  
“Yeah, there’s something wrong,” Red chided as she pushed herself to her feet. “You just kicked me out of bed!”  
“Red, I...” Kobra’s heart rate began to settle and with it he summoned his charm. “I didn’t know it was you. You gotta know, I’d never kick you out of bed.”

At the door to the living room, they heard a deep, heavy and exasperated sigh. Looking up, Kobra saw Jet and Kami returning. Red’s shoulders began to shake with laughter as she realised that her brother had returned at precisely the wrong moment.

“Kobra, do you like wait for me before you say stuff like that?” Jet asked with a resigned tone to his voice.  
“Jet... no... it’s not what you think!” He exclaimed, keen to explain. “She came over and...”

Jet waved his arms in front of his chest, shaking his head at the same time.

“I don’t need to know,” he added.  
“But, it’s...”  
“I don’t want to know either.” Jet sighed again. “But can you at least keep it discreet? For a while, at least? I’m happy for you, man, I really am, but... yeah. Keep it on the DL, okay? As far as I’m concerned my little sister is sweet and innocent, and I’d like to keep thinking that.”  
“Sure,” Kobra replied, his shoulders dropping; it really wasn’t worth trying to explain the misunderstanding. “Sorry, Jet.”  
“And you can stop laughing too, Scarlet Toro!” Jet grumbled, noticing the shake, now almost overtaking her entire body. “You’re as bad as each other.”

Patting his arm gently, Kami moved to stand in front of Jet to make an announcement to them all.

“Well, I’m going to make some dinner,” she looked briefly at each of them in turn. “Do you want some, or do you want to sleep first?”

Even the mention of food was enough to start them salivating and most of the tiredness that they all felt, slipped suddenly away at the thought of eating. Kami noticed a subtle array of widening eyes and licking of lips and grinned in acknowledgement.

“Dinner for four then?”  
“Can I help?” Jet asked keen to leave Kobra and Red with some privacy.  
“If you like, sweetie,” Kami gently gripped Jet’s arm, “of course you can.”

Kobra waited until Jet and Kami had left the room and the door was long closed behind him.

“You keep getting me in trouble with your brother!” He smirked.  
“Me?” Red pointed to herself with both hands, amping up her already exaggerated innocent expression.  
“Yes, you!” Kobra grinned, pulling her closer. “He might want to believe you’re innocent, but I’m not that naive.”

Red lost her smile in an instant, stepping back and pulling away from him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest.  
“Oh, come on,” he laughed, missing the seriousness in her eyes. “You’re not innocent.”

Red felt an unwelcome stinging sensation behind her eyes at the words and she turned quickly away, so he wouldn’t see her with tears glistening in her eyes.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, intending to turn her back around, Kobra flinched when she pulled forward, jerking her shoulder out of his hand. It was his first realisation that she wasn’t joking with him.

“No,” she spoke quietly, trying to hide the shake in her voice, “maybe I’m not now, thanks to you. I gave you the one thing I can’t give to anyone else and now you’re mocking me for it! I can’t believe I fell for your charm, Mikey Way. Now I know what they meant by your reputation!”  
“Wait... what? What did I do?” He blurted in response.

Taking her arms and turning her almost forcibly, Kobra’s cheek stung as she slapped him at the action.

“Red, baby,” his eyes widened. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”

Behind them the door to the kitchen opened.

“You get what you want from me and now what? I’m damaged goods, or something?” Tears filled her eyes as she spat the words, more hurt than angry.

Kobra didn’t even get a chance to reply, before he was first turning before careening to the floor, dazed with pain exploding from his jaw and a furious Jet, lowering over him.

“Get up!” Jet demanded, rubbing his still clenched fist. “I told you what I’d do if you ever hurt her!”  
“Well, you’re not doing it in here!” Kami shouted, her words stern and determined.  
“Jet,” Kobra raised a hand in a defensive pose, “I swear, man, I’d never hurt her. I don’t know what I’ve done.”  
“You called me cheap!” Red cried astonished at his lack of understanding.  
“I didn’t!” He replied quickly as Jet’s face reddened with fury. “I joked about you not being innocent but... I... Red, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Kami stepped forward and took Jet’s arm, pulling him slightly.

“Jet, sweetheart, it’s a misunderstanding. We need to give them their privacy.”  
“What? I... If you hurt her...” Jet began as he allowed Kami to lead him away.  
“I won’t.”

Kobra’s statement held so much sincerity, that both Jet and Red calmed instantly. Waiting again for them to leave the room, Kobra stepped forward and took Red’s hands in his.

“Last time we were here,” he began, his voice gentle and kind, “was that your first time? Was I your first?”

Red looked down, tears again stinging her eyes as she wondered how he would feel about the news. Would he mock her? Ridicule her? Laugh? Unable to find her voice, all she could do was nod. Pulling her closer, Kobra sighed and began stroking her hair as she hiccuped through her tears.

“Oh, Scarlet, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”  
“What for?” She asked raising her eyes to meet his - this answer might very well make or break their relationship.  
“If I’d known that... Oh, Scarlet, I would have made it special for you. The right setting, romantic! Privacy,” he added, rolling his eyes. “Everything you deserve and trust me, you deserve everything.”  
“You mean that?” Red asked quietly.  
“Scarlet,” he sighed gently ending with a soft smile. “I love you, don’t you know?”  
“I do now,” she replied, pulling him closer.

As their lips met, the door was opened just enough for Kami to see the two lovers, lost in their embrace, oblivious to everything.

“Everything’s okay now,” she whispered as she closed the door again.  
“You’re sure?” Jet whispered in return.  
“Oh, yes,” Kami smiled happily. “I’m sure.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww! Hope you liked that. Maybe the penultimate chapter? Who knows? Not me!


	49. Secrets and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jet hates keeping secrets, especially from his best friends

Jet looked up as Party entered the living room as he was packing away his sheets and pillow; he had to admit, Kami’s couch was so much more comfortable than even the best bed in the rundown motel attached to the diner. Party’s cheeks had finally returned to their natural paleness, rather than the unnatural shade Jet had seen previously.

“You look brighter,” he remarked with a happy smile.  
“That’s what six days of great sleep and even better food will do to you,” Party grinned back.  
“Where’s Ghoul?” Jet asked, folding the last sheet and placing it neatly on top of the pillow.

Party gave a short amused snort and jerked his thumb behind him.

“Washing his hair.”  
“Kami does like his hair clean,” Jet nodded, settling himself on the couch again.  
“Yeah, I think she’s tired of cleaning plaster dust out of the bed,” Party smirked, taking a seat next to Jet.  
“He’s doing okay though, isn’t he?”  
“Yeah,” Party nodded with a grateful sigh, “those pills really seem to be doing the job. He’s almost back to normal.”  
“No pills are _that_ good,” Jet chuckled, inspiring a laugh from Party too.  
“Well, normal for him, anyway,” Party corrected himself.

Jet turned his head as the kitchen door opened. Kami stood in the doorway, her long hair tied back into a loose ponytail and an apron covering most of her long blue dress.

“Hello, my lovelies,” she called cheerfully. “My goodness, Party, you’re barely recognisable as the ailing waif you were a week ago!”

Party leapt to his feet and was pulling Kami into a hug in the blink of an eye.

“That’s because of you and your unbelievable kindness! What would we do without you?” He replied giving her an extra squeeze before letting go.  
“Oh, get away with you,” she shook her head, embarrassed by the gushing praise.  
“I’m serious!” He objected.  
“I know you are,” she laughed in return.  
“He’s such a diva, isn’t he?” Came a new voice entering the room followed by a light laugh.  
“I’m not saying anything you wouldn’t,” Party called to Ghoul over his shoulder, with his arms still wrapped around Kami.  
“Did you hear me object?” Ghoul smirked.  
“Well, that makes you a diva too, then,” Kami replied with a twinkle in her eye.  
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Ghoul chuckled, heading towards Kami and Party, giving them both a light kiss on their cheeks.  
“Who wants breakfast?” She asked in reply.  
“Breakfast?” Jet’s eyes widened as he placed a hand across his belly. “I’m still full from dinner last night!”  
“Any more food and those new clothes you made us won’t fit!” Ghoul added.  
“Did I hear someone say breakfast?”

Kobra entered the room with Red, both returning from the rear of the shop where they had been since even before Jet had woken.

“Where does he put it?” Party commented, shaking his head.  
“Hollow legs,” Jet suggested, raising an eyebrow.  
“I work it off!” Kobra replied with an indignant pout. “Red and I have been out back doing a workout.”  
“Seriously, Kobra, giving it a different name does not make it any better,” Jet smirked and chuckled to himself.  
“We have!” Kobra cried. “We were working through a series of kicks. I wanted to check that my ankle’s healed.”  
“He’s winding you up, baby.”

Red snaked her arms around Kobra’s waist, turning him to face her. Once looking at her, the expression of indignation faded from his face, as he saw the look of amusement on hers.

“Yeah,” Kobra nodded briefly, and rolling his eyes. “He’s a real joker,” he added in a blunt, unimpressed tone.  
“So, breakfast?” Kami prompted again, holding in a laugh as she realised just how easy it was to raise a smile on Kobra’s face and make him forget his ill-temper.

“Okay, I’m going to put some breakfast on,” Kami pursed her lips momentarily, “Jet, sweetheart, could you help me please?”  
“Of course, Kami,” he replied brightly, pushing himself up from the deep, comfortable couch.  
“Yeah,” Ghoul smirked at him, “you really need to learn how to cook.”

Jet arched an eyebrow, unamused by the comment. None of them were particularly good cooks; Jet could manage some fairly decent eggs on a good day, Kobra’s cooking was often at least edible, Party’s definitely wasn’t and a can of Power Pup was always a better option than whatever Ghoul could manage to get to a plate.

“Yeah, because _I’m_ the one who really needs to learn,” he added, shaking his head as he turned to head for the kitchen behind Kami.  
“Make yourself comfortable my loves and we’ll be right back with a lovely, tasty breakfast,” called, heading through the kitchen door with Jet following behind her.

Behind them, they heard Kobra’s inevitable question.

“Red? Can you cook?”

With the door closed, Jet moved close behind Kami and slipped his arms around her waist, leaning in to breathe in the scent in her hair and kiss her softly on the neck.

“This has been a lovely week,” he murmured as he continued pressing gentle butterfly kisses up her neck to her ear and back down again. “I hardly ever get to see you for this long.”

Remaining wrapped in his strong and well-toned arms, but turning to face him, Kami wasted no time in leaning in to enjoy a passionate kiss, running her fingers through his hair and pulling him as close as she was able to, it was a few minutes before they pulled gently away from each other and gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Even though I gave Party and Ghoul our bed?”  
“Especially because you gave them our bed,” he replied smiling at the use of the plural pronoun. “You really are amazing, you know that? I don’t know what we’d do without you. I don’t know what I’d do, either.”  
“Oh, my sweet Jet,” she laughed softly, curling a lock of his hair in her fingers. “You really never need to find out.”  
“I guess we better get some breakfast on before they start checking up on us?”  
“I suppose so,” Kami sighed, pulling back from his embrace, briefly holding on to his fingers before letting go to turn towards the fridge. “What do you fancy?”

Jet moved closer once again, taking her by the shoulders and kissing the back of her head, raising a light laugh from Kami as she looked over her shoulder in time to see Jet wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Do you really need to ask?”  
“Thursday,” she replied sternly but with a wide smile.  
“Thursday?” Jet offered a mock pout. “That’s three days away. You want me to wait three whole days?”  
“What makes you think it’s any easier for me?”

Jet took a deep breath, letting go of her shoulders as she opened the fridge door and started removing packets and boxes and placing them on the counter. Heading for one of the cupboards, Jet removed some plates and bowls and placed them on the opposite counter.

“They still don’t know. The guys, I mean, about us,” he commented, opening a drawer to pull out some cutlery and serving utensils. “After all this time.”  
“Well, we are very discreet,” Kami smiled, looking over her shoulder.  
“And you still want to be?” Jet asked with an expression that bordered on sad.

Kami turned; Jet was struggling to look her in the eyes, his shoulders sagged and he swallowed as she continued to look at him. The sadness almost radiated from him and Kami found herself mirroring his expression.

“What is it that troubles you about our relationship, sweetheart?” She asked kindly.  
“I...” he began before shrugging and briefly throwing his arms out to the side in exasperation. “It’s not our relationship that troubles me, it’s...” Jet shook his head, unable or unwilling to explain.  
“You feel you’re lying to your friends?”  
“Yeah,” he nodded, still with a pained expression. “But it’s not just that.”  
“Red? You want to tell your sister?”  
“No, well, yeah, but that’s not it,” he replied, frowning and, if it were possible, his shoulders sagged a little more.  
“What is it, Jet? Please tell me.”  
“I... I don’t want to hide this. It’s a great thing we have and it’s much more than just sex... well, to me, anyway,” he added, lowering his eyes.

Kami approached him and slowly raised his head with a finger under his chin.

“I love you, Jet,” she smiled. “This is most definitely not just sex for me either.”  
“I love you too,” he beamed, delighted to hear her say the words. “So, why keep it a secret? It’s been nearly seven months.”  
“Sweetheart, these things have a way of getting out, I don’t want you to be in a situation where you’re threatened by someone who knows they can get to you through me.”  
“I understand that it’s dangerous for you to be with me...”  
“That’s not what I meant at all!” Kami insisted. “I would do anything for you, all of you. Haven’t I just housed and fed you for a week?”  
“I don’t want to argue, Kam,” Jet took her hands and kissed them both. “I hardly see you enough, I don’t want to spend the time we have arguing. But...”  
“But?” She stared at him, her head tilted and eyes wide forming an expression lying somewhere between frustration and anger.  
“But if you’re already risking everything to take care of us all, what difference does it make if the guys know about us? Who are they going to tell?”

Kami opened her mouth to speak but paused as she struggled to find a good counter-argument. What _was_ she afraid of? It certainly wasn’t being in danger, she already was simply by having the Killjoys staying in her home. It was true that she was concerned about Jet being able to be threatened by targeting her, but that could happen anyway. It was always possible that someone would find out about them, there were many sharp-eyed people out in the Zones that would sell any information for a few carbons. It made no difference whether the Killjoys knew or not from a danger perspective, but it seemed it would make Jet very happy if they did. From either a logical or emotional perspective, announcing their relationship to the Killjoys made sense.

“How do you want to do it?” She asked smiling.  
“We could tell them after breakfast, maybe?” Jet suggested with raised eyebrows.

Kami nodded; it seemed like a good idea. It would make Jet happy, and that would, in turn, make her happy. Stepping closer, she pulled him towards her and into a passionate kiss. If Jet had any doubts about her certainty, they were dispelled in an instant.

Locked in their embrace, they almost didn’t hear the door open.

“No, don’t stop, I’m just getting an apple,” Ghoul piped up cheerfully, heading for the fruit bowl standing on the counter behind where Kami had placed the breakfast items.

Jet and Kami separated immediately, Jet’s eyes wide and staring at the shorter man who didn’t seem remotely surprised.

“Ghoul... we... ah... we were going to tell everyone later... after breakfast,” Jet stammered as Ghoul looked back at him smirking and enjoying Jet’s obvious discomfort.  
“No need, man,” Ghoul replied before taking a bite of his apple. “We’ve known for months,” he added covering his mouth with his hand as he chewed and spoke at the same time.  
“You... no way! We were...”

Ghoul laughed and shook his head. The idea that they had been careful to keep their relationship under wraps was apparently highly amusing to him.

“Oh, Jet, man! Nobody goes for a ride every Thursday and Sunday for at least six months without having somewhere very specific to go. And it’s pretty obvious given the expression you have on your face when you get back!” Ghoul laughed loudly at the absurdity of the idea.  
“What expression?” Jet asked indignantly.  
“I don’t think you want me to describe it in front of Kami, but let’s just say, you were pretty relaxed when you got back.”  
“But, you didn’t know it was Kami,” Jet insisted.  
“Not at first, no,” Ghoul shrugged.  
“You didn’t know,” Jet mocked.  
“Oh, Jet, really?” Ghoul shook his head, laughing and taking another small bite of the apple. “If it makes you feel better, you stick with that.”  
“You all know?” Jet appeared suddenly deflated.  
“Yeah,” Ghoul nodded, answering immediately before changing his mind only seconds later. “Actually, no. Red doesn’t know, so if you tell her, we’ll all act surprised. But wait until after breakfast.”  
“Why?” Jet asked suspicious of Ghoul’s motives.  
“I need time to tell the guys to act surprised. I can’t just blurt it out, can I?”  
“That’ll be a first,” Jet grumbled.  
“Kami, if you wouldn’t mind sorting out his mood, I’ll finish this lovely apple before breakfast.  
“Thank you, Ghoul,” Kami smiled. “I’m really glad you know. I’ll get back to making breakfast for you and don’t worry, I won’t let him cook.”  
“Hey!” Jet cried at the insult, only to be instantly distracted by Kami’s lips on his.

A light chuckle was all they heard before once again they were alone in the kitchen.

“Now,” Kami spoke softly, pulling her head back briefly. “What can I do about your mood?”  
“You’re doing it,” Jet grinned.  
“What about breakfast?” She offered an innocent smile in return.  
“We’ll have brunch instead,” he replied, smiling as he moved back into the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this came right out of left field! Still more to come after all :) Maybe one last chapter?


	50. Ghoul finds Jets buttons and presses them all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jet wants to know how Ghoul knew about Kami, but Ghoul isn’t immediately forthcoming

I had been a joyful farewell as the Killjoys left Kami’s place, with all of them much recovered from their ordeals, except for Ghoul, but even he was making a faster recovery than they had expected. It had probably had something to do with Kami’s cooking and bountiful supplies. There had been many times when each of them had doubted that they would ever return home, but here they were, largely intact and heading back to the diner. They still had two tasks to perform before they could head to the diner and safety.

First they had to return to Candi and Ice’s apartment. It wasn’t something that they originally planned on doing but for a conversation with Ghoul whilst at Kami’s.

_Party Poison lifted the duvet gently to make it easier to scoot over to Fun Ghoul’s side of the bed. With Ghoul lying on his back it made it much easier for Party to place an arm around him without having to think about whether he might hurt him by pressing on the still healing wound. Ghoul had saved Party’s life and as keen as he was to repay him with all his gratitude, Party knew he had to be very careful not to hurt the younger man. Nuzzling his face into Ghoul’s neck and placing his lips delicately on a familiar sensitive spot, the red-head alternately kissed, licked and sucked on Ghoul’s soft skin. After a few minutes without response, Party pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked down at the man resting next to him, his eyes still closed and a gentle smile gracing his lips._

_“What’s a guy got to do to get your attention?” He asked, his tone edged with frustration._  
_“You have my attention,” Ghoul replied, unable to hold back a guilty giggle as he spoke._  
_“You’ve been awake all this time?” Party gasped. “Why didn’t you say anything? Do anything?”_  
_“Because you’d have stopped,” Ghoul continued to chuckle to himself, looking up at Party’s aghast expression._  
_“I can’t believe this!” Party responded trying hard to appear shocked and hurt, but was already grinning. “Well, you’re getting back to normal, aren’t you?”  
“Hey!” Ghoul pouted. “Who are you calling normal?”_

__

__

_Party shook his head. It was true, normal was not an adjective that was typically ascribed to Ghoul. Childish, infuriating, petty, fiercely loyal, sweet and gorgeous, yes, but not normal._

_“No,” Party agreed, still grinning, “you’re never gonna be normal, but that’s how I like you.”_  
_“Like me?” Ghoul mimicked Party’s attempt at a mock shocked and hurt expression._  
_“Love you,” Party corrected, leaning down to kiss the younger man once more._

_Ghoul’s smile faded as he saw the sudden change in expression in Party’s face. He appeared distant, even haunted._

_“What’s wrong?” Ghoul asked softly._  
_“I was really scared when you went missing. I really didn’t know if I’d see you again.”_  
_“If it’s any consolation, the only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you,” he replied, caressing Party’s cheek._  
_“Did they drug you too?” Party asked. “Candi and Ice, I mean.”_  
_“Not them, no,” Ghoul shook his head as Party settled himself back on the bed and curled up beside him. “I went down to the basement to see Ice, he was waving at me from the bottom of the stairs. I went in and... it could only have been a matter of seconds and a guy, I assume Sorby, grabbed me from behind and chloroformed me.”_

_Party’s brow creased as he considered Ghoul’s words._

_“How?” He asked, puzzled. “I mean, how did you not see him? There’s nothing in the basement, or at least there wasn’t last time I was there.”_  
_“Yeah, well, it’s packed solid full of boxes now,” Ghoul announced. “He was hiding behind a stack of them.”_  
_“Boxes?” Party mused._  
_“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Ghoul asked, a serious expression washing over his face._  
_“Oh, Heaven help me if I am!” Party chuckled, only to receive a light dig in the ribs. “Ow!” He laughed harder at the friendly punch._  
_“I’m thinking supplies,” Ghoul explained._  
_“I think you’re right,” Party nodded, suddenly adopting a serious tone. “As soon as we’re well enough, we’re going back there. That’s a big basement and if it’s full of supplies, we need to get them distributed.”_  
_“If we’re lucky,” Ghoul added, “we might find the blood money they got for us.”_  
_“Well, the Zones are going to need a new hospital,” Party’s tone brightened at the idea._  
_“Where are Fielding and Hawes going to meet us?”_  
_“Odeby,” Party replied._

_Ghoul snorted, half laughing and half approving. Party’s decision had been specifically made to avoid detection. Odeby lay in Zone 4, just beyond the Zone 3 border and was practically a ghost town. It wasn’t the most inviting looking township in Zone 4, or anywhere for that matter. What few buildings hadn’t been declared unsafe where probably only delaying the inevitable. The only truly habitable building was the church, regularly maintained by the town’s only occupant, Father Dominic. It was a safe haven for the Killjoys; Crow Patrols were rare and those that ever ventured near generally bypassed it. Draculoids were creatures of habit and not known for stopping in places that lacked even a rudimentary bar. Father Dominic had frequently hidden the Killjoys in the church’s crypt, which had been decorated and rigged to scare away even the sternest and hardiest of Draculoids. The rebellious priest was also happy to offer himself as a sideshow, acting like a deranged hermit should a patrol hang around longer than was strictly necessary._

_“Do they know about Father Dom?” Ghoul smirked allowing his head to flop to the side to look at Party, now settled back down on the bed beside him.  
“I gave them the password, he’ll look after them,” Party replied with a sigh._

_Things were finally getting back to normal._

*

Pulling into the underground parking lot in Dust Bowl, the Killjoys breathed a collective sigh as they parked alongside Dr Death Defying’s van, still locked securely and with everything intact.

“That’s a conversation I wouldn’t have looked forward to,” Kobra commented, inhaling deeply with relief.  
“Surely you’d just be your charming self and you’d get away with it,” Red raised an eyebrow and bit her lip.  
“Huh! You’ve met Doc, right?” Kobra turned a sceptical expression towards her, uncertain if she was serious or teasing him.  
“Did you follow me?” Jet asked the odd question seemingly out of nowhere.  
“What?” Kobra asked, surprised by the question and uncertain how it related to the conversation with Red.  
“He’s trying to work out how we knew he was seeing Kami,” Ghoul called back from the front passenger seat.  
“I have to admit, I’ve been thinking about that myself,” Red announced. “Ever since you mentioned it, I’ve been wondering how. I mean, does he talk in his sleep or something?”  
“How the hell should I know?” Ghoul gasped, turning in his seat before thinking better of it as his wound sent a shooting pain across his abdomen. “I’m strictly a one man guy!” He added.  
“And I’m not that guy,” Jet added, as if it needed further explanation.  
“You are a handsome guy though, Jet,” Ghoul chuckled. “Don’t put yourself down.”  
“I wasn’t,” Jet replied flatly. “Come on, someone followed me!”  
“Nope!” Ghoul replied cheerfully, making a popping noise as he ended the word.  
“Well, what then?” Jet asked, frustrated and barely believing that they hadn’t followed him.  
“You really want to know?” Ghoul asked with an element of teasing in his voice.  
“Yes!” Jet was gritting his teeth and barely managing to stay calm.  
“Really, really?” Ghoul goaded in a playground, sing-song manner.  
“Ghoul!” Jet used a tone that suggested that his usual calm and quiet persona was about to blow.

Even Party was now turning a warning look in Ghoul’s direction. Jet had patience, lots of it, but not limitless, especially if he suspected that someone had violated his privacy.

“You’ll kick yourself,” Ghoul added, Party’s warning glance unheeded.  
“I’ll kick you!” Jet fumed, leaning forward in his seat.  
“Okay, okay!” Ghoul chuckled, waving his hands to signal defeat. “You know how we always know where the trans am is?”  
“Yes,” Jet drew out the word, a puzzled and suspicious expression on his face.  
“Well, it made sense to put a tracker on the bike too. No sense risking losing the bike if we have the technology to prevent it, is there.”

Ghoul grinned as he stepped out of the car, watching Jet quietly process the information as he exited the other side.

“So you were spying on me?” He finally asked, leaning on the roof of the trans am and staring at Ghoul.  
“That’s dramatic,” Ghoul raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. “Call it interest and... I never said it was me.”

Party turned a sideways glance to his boyfriend and shook his head lightly. Ghoul didn’t have to say anything, this had his handiwork written all over it.

“Are you angry?” Ghoul asked with surprising sensitivity in his tone.

Jet raised his eyebrows in surprise at the question. The more he considered it, the more he realised that he wasn’t. Quite the opposite in fact. Although Ghoul had found out his secret, he had respected his privacy enough to allow him to keep his own counsel until he was ready. Before Jet had a chance to reply, Ghoul continued.

“I’m sorry I told everyone,” he lowered his eyes. “That was unfair of me.”  
“No,” Jet shook his head. “You just did what I should have done ages ago.”

Ghoul looked up and smiled; was it okay? Was Jet actually okay about it? Or was it the lull before the storm?

“It’s okay, man,” Jet smiled before tipping into a genuine laugh. “It’s okay.”

Ghoul smiled, relieved that he hadn’t hurt Jet’s feelings. It hadn’t been his intention but as Jet had become increasingly angry and frustrated, he could see how it might have upset him.

“You say I’ve got charm,” Kobra leaned towards Ghoul and poked him in the chest. “You must have it in spades the way you keep getting away with stunts like that. One day, Ghoul, your teasing and tricks are going to get you hurt.”  
“Says the man who started a relationship with Jet’s sister under his nose and didn’t tell him,” Ghoul retorted with a sly smirk.  
“One day may be sooner than you think,” Kobra scowled in return before being pulled away by Red before another argument broke out.  
“He’s so...” Kobra grumbled under his breath as Red led him away.  
“I know,” she smiled in return. “But don’t forget, in a firefight, he’s always got your back.”

Kobra made a noise that sounded like a cross between a tut and a snort. Whilst he may believe and accept the comment, he wasn’t about to acknowledge it. Leaning in for a kiss, Red knew how to take his mind off any growing situation. Holding him in place as Ghoul gave a loud approving sigh, Red made a mental note to slap him later.

Settling himself into the driving seat, Jet called for them to pile into the van. There were logistical considerations - Party wanted to keep Ghoul a subtle distance from Kobra while his famously short-tempered brother cooled down. He needn’t have worried, Red had already attended to his mood and within only a couple of minutes, they were headed to Candi and Ice’s apartment over the bakery. They didn’t know what would be there specifically, but certainly most of what they found would be distributed locally, but some would be heading back to the diner with them. Medicines and supplies for Doctor Death Defying, some bottled water and anything but Power Pup to eat for all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short one today, been busy for uni so didn’t have a lot of time.
> 
> Btw - if you like this, check out Before They Were Fabulous - my take on the story of the Killjoys growing up and how they got together to become the Fabulous Four.


	51. Boxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Killjoys distribute the contents of the basement at Candi and Ice’s place, leaving them only one task before they could head home.

Jet pulled up outside the bakery in the heart of Dust Bowl, above which Candi Crush and her boyfriend, Ice Diamond had lived. Both had been good friends of the Killjoys and owed a particular debt to Party, who had not only saved their lives from the ‘Crows but also fed and housed them when they were starving and set them up in the trading and distribution of items liberated from BLI or Battery City during the Killjoys’ many raids. The Killjoys had trusted them; their lives and freedom depended on that trust and they had been betrayed for a promised 112,500 Carbons, of which they only saw 52,500. It was a huge amount of money for a Zone dweller but, as Jet stared up at the apartment, the thought that ran through his mind was: ‘What price friendship?’. Letting out a small, barely audible sigh; he realised that that particular question had been answered, but it didn’t make it any the less painful.

“You okay, man?”

Jet roused himself from his thoughts and turned a bleak expression towards Kobra sitting in the passenger seat. From the look on his face, it hadn’t been the first time the younger Killjoy had asked the question. It was then that Jet noticed that the van’s side door was open and he and Kobra were the only two remaining seated in the cab.

Forcing a smile, Jet nodded and patted Kobra’s arm before reaching for the door release. Jumping down from the cab on the opposite side, Kobra took advantage of Jet’s view of him being obscured by the van.

“Hey,” he whispered, tugging gently on Red’s jacket’s sleeve.

Red turned, smiling broadly as she did. Walking back to where Kobra stood, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close, kissing his neck but pulling back when she received no similar response.

“What’s up?” She asked, noting Kobra’s furrowed brow and concerned frown.  
“I’m worried about Jet,” he confided. “He seems a bit... I don’t even know how to describe it.”  
“He told me that killing someone you know... someone you thought was a friend... it takes a piece of your soul.”

Kobra exhaled deeply and slowly, his shoulders sagging as he did.

“I’ve never had to do that,” he replied in a gentle, thoughtful tone. “I can only imagine what I’d feel like and it’s worse for Jet.”  
“Why?” Red asked, stroking his arm comfortingly.  
“Me, Party and Ghoul... we all have a lot of hate in our hearts. Battery City and BLI nearly crushed us and we’re fuelled by anger. We kill ‘Crows or people who cross us and... well I’m not going to say we like it, but we view it as necessary and, yeah, sometimes there’s a real satisfaction,” Kobra admitted. “But Jet? He had a loving family that took care of him. Well, you know that, they took care of you too. Somehow he’s... well, let’s face it, he and your dad were probably attacked and he’s found in the desert by Doctor Death Defying who took him into his camp. The doc taught him how to fight, sure, even how to kill, but, you know, I don’t think there’s an angry bone in his body. Jet just doesn’t seem to understand hate. So, killing? He’ll never get used to it. It really troubles him, no matter what the justification.”  
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Red nodded, her expression one of sadness and even pity for her brother. “He has a kind soul,” she added.  
Kobra nodded. “Jet’s too good for this world; he deserves better. That’s why I’m so happy that you’re here.”  
“Oh, that’s why? Really?”  
“Well,” Kobra shrugged and smirked. “I have my own entirely selfish reasons too.”

Party appeared back at the van carrying two boxes.

“Hey! Do you think you two could stop that and carry some boxes? We got a lot of work to do, you know.”

Red turned her head and smiled; it wasn’t worth trying to explain that it wasn’t what he thought. It seemed that Ghoul had been right and the basement was stacked full of supplies - they did indeed have a full day ahead of them.

“Right with you, boss,” Red beamed a grin.

In reply, Party frowned and narrowed his eyes, wondering if she was mocking him. Before he had chance to speak, Red continued.

“What are we moving first?” She asked brightly.  
“The blue edged boxes, in the far corner of the basement,” he replied as Jet arrived also carrying two boxes. “But...”  
“Hey, Party, you better get down there,” he rolled his eyes. “Ghoul’s down there trying to pick up boxes. He’s gonna bust his stitches if he’s not careful.”  
“Well, why...”

Jet dropped the boxes gently into the side of the van and pushed them backwards. Holding his hands up defensively, he continued:

“You know what he’s like and he won’t listen to me. You need to get him up here to stand guard or something, make sure it’s not stolen.”  
“I was going to get Red to do that,” Party replied, pushing a hand through his hair.  
“Hey!” Red pouted. “I’m strong, I can lift boxes!”  
“Oh yeah,” Party grinned. “I know you can, but there’s no way you’d be able to see over the top of them.”

Red stared, eyes wide, lips parted and hands on hips, quite unable to believe that he had just said that. She was torn; on one hand, Party had just made fun of her height, and at only about five inches taller, he was barely able to comment on height! But on the other hand, had he just accepted her into the group? Her answer came almost immediately.

“How about helping Ghoul? If I ask him to guard stuff and anyone tries to take anything, there’s pretty much nothing he can do about it right now.”

Party didn’t have time to hear Red’s reply as a hand clipped the back of his head.

“I can still use a fucking gun, Party,” Ghoul grumbled, offering Red a cheeky wink.  
“O...kay,” Party smoothed his hair back down and smirked at the pair. “Kobra, we’re taking the blue edged boxes. Red, you can arrange the load inside the van and Ghoul...” Party paused, “you can guard the van whilst looking devastatingly gorgeous.”

Kobra rolled his eyes and shook his head as he walked past to join Jet in the basement.

“So, it’s okay for you and Ghoul but not for me and Red?”  
“That’s right, li’l bro,” Party grinned. “Glad we got that straightened out.”  
“There’s nothing straight about you,” Kobra grumbled in return.  
“Oh, you are so wrong!” Ghoul laughed, throwing his head back in helpless amusement, allowing his pure joy to flow through him.

Party’s grin broadened at the slight flush of pink blooming on Kobra’s cheeks as he sloped off towards the basement muttering under his breath as he walked.

“There’s something very perverse about you,” Red shook her head disapprovingly, poking Ghoul in the arm.

Ghoul merely grinned, still trying to keep his laughter under control.

“That’s what he said,” he added nodding toward Party drawing an immediate chuckle from the red head.

Red closed her eyes and shook her head despairingly; Ghoul was incorrigible.

“Boxes,” Party chuckled, clapping his hands together and heading toward the basement once more. Passing Jet on the way out with two more boxes in his arms, he added. “It’s great to be free, eh, Jet?”  
It’s the best,” Jet smiled back, glad to see Party happy and well again.

Reaching the steps, Party glanced up as Kobra was returning with two more boxes.

“What’s up?” He asked, drawing Party’s attention.  
“Can’t help wondering if they actually got paid. I remember Ice and Sorby talking about payment after he drugged me, but I don’t recall whether he handed any money over.”  
“You wanna look?” Kobra asked.

Party was thoughtful for a moment before nodding. The blood money was rightfully theirs to do with whatever they wanted and there was a lot they could do.

“Yeah, you and Jet carry on,” he nodded, realising that Jet would almost certainly not want to revisit the scene, where, he expected, two dead bodies still lay on the floor. “I’ll have a look.”

Kobra nodded, his expression serious and set in earnest appreciation of Party’s respect for Jet.

Heading upstairs, Party didn’t even notice Jet approaching once more and was already near the top and out of earshot as he stopped Kobra, a frown firmly fixed on his face.

“Are we...” he began, pointing up the stairs.  
“No,” Kobra shook his head. “We have to keep loading the van. He’s gone to look for money.”

Jet drew his lips into a thin line before nodding and without further words passed Kobra on his way to collect more boxes.

*

Party opened the door to the apartment and pulled back immediately. The stench of the now decomposing bodies filled the room and the only sound came from the buzzing of flies. It was an overpowering and nauseating smell. Immediately, Party’s mouth filled with water and he fought the urge to be physically sick. Steadying himself as the nausea induced dizziness threatened to push him out of the room altogether, he pulled his bandana over his nose and mouth and stepped into the room, careful to close the door behind him to prevent the smell from spreading.

Stepping over the body of Ice who lay near the doorway, he grimaced at the sight of Candi, slumped near the wall. He didn’t need to inspect her further to see that the left hand side of her face and jaw appeared to be missing. Jet had done them all a favour, and yet, a swift death seemed too good for them. Shaking his head, Party’s eyes began to scan the room.

The apartment wasn’t large, just a living room, bedroom and bathroom. He paused for a few moments; if he were hiding a large quantity of money, where would it be? Where would he put it?  
First step - how much room would 52,000 carbons take up? Of course, it depended on the denominations of the notes, but he guessed there would be nothing higher than a 100. He was looking for a minimum of 520 bills; at least a few inches thick. Most likely, the smallest space would be the size of a shoe box, probably larger.

Looking around the sparsely furnished room, there seemed nothing obviously holding a large quantity of cash. Of course, there was the possibility of it being hidden under a floorboard, which might slow him down, but it seemed unlikely. They were expecting Jet, Sorby was coming back to collect him presumably. They were almost ready to run. Walking towards their bedroom, he found two small suitcases bulging at the seams, accompanied by a smaller holdall. Was it really this easy? Opening the holdall, Party’s eyes widened at the sight of the money lying in haphazard bundles, obviously hurriedly stuffed inside. The sight of it made him simultaneously angry and sad. Angry that their two friends had turned on them for such a small bag of money and curiously, sad for exactly the same reason. Pulling the zipper closed once more, he slung the bag over his shoulder - he had plans for the money. Heading back through the living room, he scowled at the two bodies.

“Fuck you!” He growled bitterly. “I would have done anything for you!”

Closing the door behind him, he shuddered as if shaking off the stench of death, cleansing himself of their treachery. By the time he stepped out into the sunlight once more, he was surprised to see the van door closed and the others waiting for him.

“Loaded up and ready for the first run,” Kobra announced.  
“Thanks,” Party replied, his voice more subdued than even he expected. “Just one more thing,” he added throwing the bag to his brother.

Opening the zipper slightly, Kobra whistled, his eyes widening at the sight of the quantity of carbons stuffed inside.

“That should fund a new hospital,” Party offered a slight smile.  
“Well then,” Kobra grinned. “Let’s get all this delivered and go find us a couple of doctors.”

*

It took the better part of the day for the majority of the boxes to be sorted, loaded and delivered to various establishments including, schools, clinics and shelters, but eventually the Killjoys were on their way once more.

With Ghoul, Party and Jet in the trans am and Kobra and Red in the van accompanied by a selection of boxes they had kept for themselves, they set off, heading for Odeby.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely readers. I know I promised you an ending soon, like 4 chapters ago, but we are nearly there, I promise! :D Unless, of course, something goes wrong... :P
> 
> I hope you’re still enjoying it and not completely fed up and screaming ‘Aaarrrgghh!!! Just end it, already!!!’ If you fancy a new tale, why not have a look at ‘Before They Were Fabulous’?
> 
> Best wishes  
> Sas xx


	52. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Killjoys are ready to go home, but can they ever really be safe?

The town of Odeby was barely standing. It had never been would anyone would call a flourishing town, but now it was deserted, save for one occupant: Father Dominic Castillo. Lightly stooped in his posture, weather-beaten, grey-haired and somewhat unkempt in appearance, Father Dom, as he liked to be known, was a man who probably looked older than he was. Years of desert living and alcohol induced illness had aged him significantly. He had been an army priest during the Helium Wars and had seen far too much death and destruction. The deaths of far too many men in their prime had deeply affected the man to the point where he could take no more. With all religions banned within Battery City, realistically, his ideal situation was probably to find a new role, where he could take their drugs to wipe the terrible memories from his mind and all trace of emotion from his body. Instead he lived far out into the desert in a region that boasted some of the severest acid rain storms in the Zone belts, the only occupant of a crumbling ghost town. The mega-corporation, Better Living Industries, had risen, globally, from the ashes of many of the world’s remaining cities. That, he knew without doubt didn’t happen by accident, and he firmly believed, like many others, that the war had been engineered to enable their arrival. Their batteries and pharmaceutical empire already established, their quasi-governmental hierarchy, laws and security already in place. This was not a company trying to help the remaining population to recover. No, this was a company who had destroyed the population and had subjugated the remaining people to maintain their global stranglehold of power.

Although he had never spoken the thought out loud, Father Dom knew in his heart that BLI had caused the war, solely to profit from it and profit they had. Now the biggest global company there had ever been, BLI had quite literally taken over the world and Father Dom knew that even though he could feel so much better taking their medication, he had instead chosen to devote the remainder of his life to helping all rebels. Too old and ill to fight, he knew his limitations, but he was determined to fight in the only way available to him - helping others who were younger, fitter and stronger.

Father Dom pushed himself out of his seat and began collecting the breakfast plates. It may have seemed strange to the two doctors sharing the meagre meal with him, but he liked to eat inside the church. He loved to sit on the pews in the still silence of the large, almost cavernous building and simply enjoy the peace he felt looking up towards the altar and the few but beautiful religious artefacts that he had managed to retain despite the many thieves to be found in the outer Zones.

“Father,” Doctor Fielding leapt to her feet. “Let me do that,” she continued. “You’ve done so much for us already. Why don’t you rest?”

Father Dom laughed lightly and shook his head.

“Now, you know that doesn’t make any sense.” He smiled as he turned back to face her. “Aren’t you doctors always saying, ‘Keep moving, don’t let everything stiffen up.’ Or, ‘Your muscles will waste away if you don’t use them.’ Isn’t that how it usually goes?”  
“Sometimes,” Fielding smiled back, realising how unlikely it was that she was going to win this particular argument. “But sometimes people can do too much and we suggest rest.”  
“Ah!” Father Dom nodded slowly and sagely, as if he held the answers to life’s greatest questions. “But you know, there is a point where one turns into the other. When a person does too much and has to rest or does too little and needs to do more. The problem is, only you doctors know where that line is!”  
“Sometimes,” Fielding shrugged. “Other times, even we don’t know.”  
“Then how can you expect a broken old man to know?”  
“I...” Fielding paused; she didn’t want to insult him, but she had an answer for him nevertheless. “That’s why I suggested...”  
“Why should I believe a doc who just told me she doesn’t know when to say what?” He grinned and winked at her.  
“That isn’t what I said,” she replied firmly but with an amused tone and smiling in resignation, while shaking her head.  
“But it’s what a broken old man hears,” he wagged his finger in reply as he headed out with the dishes. “If you want something to do, you can pray that the Killjoys are alive and well.”  
“I can do that,” she laughed, nodding.  
“But you know, you don’t have to,” called a voice from the main entrance to the church.

Fielding’s head turned sharply as she recognised the voice and with a beaming, elated grin, she responded:

“Party! You’re safe!”  
“We all are,” Party replied, signalling behind him that it was safe to enter.

One by one the Killjoys entered the church, each of them visibly relaxing as the welcome cool interior washed over them, cleansing them of the harsh desert heat. Fielding rose and began heading quickly down the aisle between the old and worn out pews to meet them.

“Good to see you, Party, and...” Father Dom raised an eyebrow. “What mischief have you been getting yourself into, Ghoul?”  
Ghoul grinned in response. “I’m trying out a new walk,” he laughed. “I’m calling it the Post-Op Limp. What d’ya think?”  
“You carry it well, Ghoul, but it’ll never catch on. What the hell happened to you?”  
“Oh, you know me,” Ghoul shrugged in reply, at first appearing to play down his injury. “Usual hero stuff.”

Red, following behind Jet and alongside Kobra, raised her eyebrows at the priest’s unexpected phrasing.

“Oh?” Father Dom tipped his head and smiled as he noticed her surprise. “You adopted a stray?”  
“Long story,” Ghoul announced. “But the short version is we found her in the car and it turned out she belonged to Jet but he’d forgotten about her.”

Jet shook his head, rolling his eyes at the comment.

“Expertly misrepresented, Ghoul, as ever,” he replied, patting the mischievous Killjoy on the back as he walked towards Father Dom.

Red moved ahead of Kobra and now trailed a step behind Jet, clipping Ghoul on the back of his head as she passed, smirking as she heard a small ‘ow’ and a chuckle from both Kobra and Party.

“Good to see you,” Jet grinned at Fielding as they approached each other, giving her a hug before they continued walking.  
“You too.”  
“Father,” Jet beamed a smile at the priest, wrapping his arms around him enthusiastically and slapping his back before stepping back once more. “This is Red Star, she’s my sister. Red, this is Father Dom.”  
“Pleased to meet you,” she smiled broadly, putting a hand out towards him.  
“Ah! Give an old man a hug,” he chuckled.

Stepping forward, Red repeated Jet’s greeting and looked up as the pair separated only to have Kobra take over hugging duties with the priest.

“So,” he began again. “Jet’s sister? I see why that would be a long story, but I want to hear all about it. Have you eaten anything? I have some food; can I get you some breakfast?”  
“We’ve got some supplies for you, Father,” Kobra’s smile broadened as he saw the delight in Father Dom’s eyes.  
“What would we do without you? You are such a blessing for the Zones.”  
“Father,” Kobra clasped the priest’s left arm firmly, his expression one of sincerity. “Without you and people like you willing to help and hide us, we would have been dusted long ago.”  
“You give us way too much credit,” Jet added. “Come on, Kid, let’s get the supplies.”

Fielding, now standing with Ghoul, was busy checking his temperature and reviewing his stitches. Party couldn’t help but stare admiringly. Ghoul had removed his layers with Fielding’s help and she had gently peeled back the dressing to check for infection.

“I finished the pills you gave me,” Ghoul commented, he hoped helpfully.  
“But you still have pain?” Fielding asked, gently returning the dressing back to cover the rapidly healing wound.  
“Some, but I’m okay,” he replied. “I’m not even using the wheelchair any more.”  
“Are you going to keep it?” Dr Hawes asked, drawing alongside.  
“We might do,” Ghoul shrugged. “It could be handy. Why?”  
“Well,” Hawes began with a heavy sigh. “We really need to start a new hospital, somewhere, somehow. We need to start getting things together. Anything and everything would help.”

Ghoul suppressed a happy smirk as the doctor spoke; his heart heavy and his hopes low. Hawes didn’t notice, or if he did, he chose not to comment. Fielding, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes and looked at him with curiosity.

“You look pleased with yourself,” she commented, trying to work out why Ghoul seemed so smug.  
“Party?” Ghoul deferred to the older man.

Removing the holdall from where it was slung across his body, Party handed it solemnly to Hawes.

“I believe that should help,” he added, by way of explanation.

Offering only a puzzled expression, Hawes took the bag and looked at it momentarily before drawing back the zip.

“Wh... what?” He stammered. “H... how?”  
“There’s fifty thousand carbons in there,” Party explained as Ghoul stood by, enjoying the looks of confused elation on both of the doctors’ faces.  
“Party? Where did you get this?” Fielding final strung a coherent sentence together.  
“That’s the blood money that Candi and Ice got for our capture,” he replied, still smiling although it was clear that his mood was suddenly tinged with anger.  
“We can’t accept this much...” Hawes began only to be interrupted immediately.  
“You can and you will,” Party replied firmly. “The Zones need a new hospital and great doctors. I can’t think of a better purpose for it. Can you? If it helps, think of it as us putting right the fact they BLI destroyed your last hospital.”

Hawes reflected for a moment; Party was right and he found himself closing his eyes and nodding, overcome by the Killjoys’ generosity. Fielding took a deep breath; her mind full of thoughts of how BLI painted the Killjoys as dangerous rebels trying to destroy for their own benefit and gain. If she had entertained any doubts about her decision to help Party escape, they were instantly dispelled.

Returning from the kitchen, leaving Father Dom and Jet happily preparing something substantial for them all to eat, Kobra headed towards the altar where Red was standing, admiring the architecture and what remained of the stained glass windows.

“Hey,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around the slender young woman.  
“Hey, yourself,” she smiled, turning in his arms to face him.  
“What are you thinking, gorgeous?” He asked, his expression and demeanour relaxed and happy.  
“Me?” She smirked as she looked up. “I’m thinking how close we are to the altar with a happy priest only yards away.”

Kobra’s eyes widened and he stiffened, almost pulling back as she spoke.

“I... er... I... I mean...”

Unable to hold in her amusement any longer, Red erupted into raucous laughter. Though tears of absolute joy, she looked over towards Ghoul. Trying to speak, she repeatedly dissolved into fits of laughter.

“Was I right?” He chuckled; his mouth stretching into a wide mischievous grin.  
“Word for word,” she finally managed to splutter between gasps of stilted breath.

Kobra pouted; turning an angry glare towards the shorter man.

“I warned you, Ghoul!” He growled; his face flushed red with embarrassment.  
“Oh, come here!” Red grabbed Kobra’s jacket and turned his head back to face her before immediately planting her lips on his.

With only a small squeak of surprise, Kobra relaxed into the embrace; all anger towards Ghoul dissolved in an instant.

“I wish we’d known how to shut him up years ago,” Ghoul chuckled.  
“You know, I doubt we’d get the same reaction if you kissed him,” Party offered a playful smirk.  
“Hey!” Ghoul responded with a mock-hurt tone.

Quickly closing the gap between them, Party found that Red’s method of distracting Kobra worked equally well with Ghoul.

“What now?” Fielding asked Jet with a light chuckle.  
“I think we’re all about ready to just go home,” he replied with a nod and a soft smile.

 

*

 

Kneeling, the bruised and bloodied man stared down at the cold white tiled floor. Behind him, he could hear the soft pacing of boots and the occasional swish of material. Sweat pooled in his furrowed brow and had begun to trickle down into his eyes, stinging uncomfortably. With his wrists locked firmly in restraints behind his back, there was little he could do about it except blink and hope to wash away the salt. It was to no avail; as one drop was cleared, so another made its way into his eyes, stinging them anew. It was the very least of his worries, there was something, or rather someone, much more terrifying pacing slowly behind him. When the sounds of movement finally stopped, a terrified, and entirely involuntary, whimper escaped from his lips.

“Are you frightened, Doctor Harrison?” The voice drawled with a tone that almost bordered on a throaty chuckle.

Harrison nodded; too scared to form coherent words. Without warning, his head was dragged back by his hair, forcing him to look up.

“I asked you a question!” He bellowed at the timid and somewhat cowardly doctor.  
“Y-yes, s-sir,” Harrison finally stammered, barely above a whisper as he stared up into the stern and cold face of Exterminator Korse.  
“Yes, sir,” Korse laughed. “And why is that?”  
“Be-because you... you’re going to kill me, sir.”  
“Maybe?” He smirked in reply, throwing Harrison’s head back down, almost causing a whiplash effect. “Or, maybe you could still be useful?”  
“I... I can,” he stammered, risking looking up once more. “I promise, sir. I’ll do whatever you want. Anything!”  
“Oh,” Korse laughed, emerging almost as a smug cackle. Settling himself on the edge of his desk, he continued: “I know you will and do you know how I know?”

Harrison bit his lip. The real and most honest answer was - because he was a coward. Because he would do anything to save his own skin, to the absolute detriment of anyone else, whoever that may be.

“I know how _I_ know, sir,” he replied without explanation.

Korse made a sound that hung somewhere between a laugh and a snort.

“I imagine you do. I expect my reasoning isn’t too far away from your own. I know that you will do whatever it takes to save your own hide, but let me tell you, doctor: that isn’t nearly good enough for me.”

Harrison felt lightheaded, as if any moment he would pass out from the strain.

“Let me explain a few details for you, shall I?”  
“Thank you, sir.”  
“You are a coward, determined to save yourself above all else, but I expect more from you. You will instead do whatever it takes for my plans to succeed, even if that ends in your death. Do you understand?”  
“Yes,” Harrison managed to speak in a choked whisper.  
“If you don’t,” Korse placed a finger under the doctor’s chin and tilted his head back, again forcing him to look up. “Your actual death will be a prolonged affair - slow, painful and agonising in fact. I can keep you alive and screaming for weeks. Do you understand me?”  
“Yes, sir,” Harrison croaked once more.  
“Good,” Korse smirked. “Have you heard of Professor Angelique Lindstrom?”

Harrison’s eyes widened in horror at the name. Lindstrom, an infamous geneticist and biochemist, had had her license to practise revoked prior to the war due to her performing a series of highly questionable experiments, first on rhesus monkeys, but later and even more alarmingly on humans. She was brilliant, no one could deny it, but her methods and lack of ethics had left a trail of destruction in her wake. She had achieved a great deal and her pre-war progress only disrupted by some of the more inconvenient laws attaching to patient care and treatment of prisoners. Exterminator Korse had swept all that away and given her free reign to proceed as she wished. Her terrifying experiments had continued, utilising prisoners and rebels as guinea pigs. Now she stood on the brink of discovery but she needed another experienced geneticist to help her further and to test her theories and results.

Korse’s lips curled up into a cruel sneer as he saw that Harrison recognised the name.

“Good, good, I see she is familiar to you. You will be working closely with her.”  
“To do what?” He asked before he even realised how bold he sounded; immediately shrinking back, fearing another beating.  
“You will see soon enough,” Korse’s lips curled into a self-satisfied sneer. “But first, we have to capture a Killjoy.”  
“A... a Killjoy?” Harrison replied. “Which one?” He asked with concern.  
“We need two of them to keep control of the others, but I don’t want to merely control them, I want to destroy and break them utterly. You and Professor Lindstrom will provide me with the means.”  
“You want me to help capture a Killjoy?” Harrison asked.  
“Oh no, you won’t be leaving this building. Not ever. But you and the great professor will help me... alter him.”  
“Alter? What do you mean?”  
“All in good time, doctor.” Korse smirked. “All in good time.”

Harrison had no idea how to ask the next questions without risking Korse’s anger; finally settling on a direct approach.

“Who?” His voice shook with the word. “How?”

Korse’s face twisted into an angry sneer.

“You don’t need any details. Needless to say, traps have been set and when first Fun Ghoul and then Red Star step unwittingly into them, the wheels will be set in motion. There will be no escape for any of them and the Killjoys will finally be no more. They will be crushed, damaged and broken beyond repair; brought down from within.”

Harrison stared up bleakly. He had to admit, the Killjoys meant nothing to him except his life but above all, even more than Korse, he feared Professor Angelique Lindstrom. Universally regarded as insane, he once again feared for his life.

“Take him back to his cell,” Korse nodded towards a single draculoid standing stiffly to attention near the door.

As he watched Harrison being dragged away, possibly even more frightened than he had been earlier, Korse allowed himself a cruel smirk, This time, he had all the pieces in place. This time, he would not be denied his victory.

 

**The End...**

(for now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, the kudos and the comments. I’ve had a lot of fun with this and I’m sad to finish it but if you want more, there is Before They Were Fabulous - a story about the Killjoys growing up and how they came to hate BLI and become The Fabulous Killjoys that we love :)
> 
> Sas xx


End file.
